


All the World Drops Dead

by ellembee



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: 76th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellembee/pseuds/ellembee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta’s voice has been inside her head since she turned 14. She doesn’t know why they share a connection, and she doesn’t care. She likes having him with her. They comfort each other. Protect each other. Until he goes where she cannot follow. Until he enters the arena. (Based loosely on the film “In Your Eyes.”)</p><p>Written for the Movies in the Month of May Everlark Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Movies in the Month of May Everlark Challenge on tumblr. (You can find me on there: andthisisthewonder.) There is more to come. The banner is by the amazingly talented loving-mellark.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

_I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;_  
_I lift my lids and all is born again._  
_(I think I made you up inside my head.)_  
\- “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath

 

The air is thick with heat, but as Katniss lies in the grass, clothes and hair damp from the lake, she doesn’t notice its weight. An hour ago she cursed the unwavering sun, but now it feels like a luxury, soothing her to sleep.

 _Go back in_ , a voice says. _I’m dying here._

A blast of heat from the ovens hits her face. Sweat beads on his forehead and slips down the bridge of his nose. She traces the dampness of her face, and for a moment, it is his skin that she touches.

(She has never touched him though. Not really.)

She drops her hand back into the grass.

“The water’s cold,” she says.

_I’m going to pass out. Probably burn myself in the process. Do you want that on your conscience?_

She throws her arm over her eyes, as if this will block out the uncomfortable warmth of the oven. The scent of baking bread drifts over her, and despite her recently eaten lunch, her stomach rumbles.

_There’s a cupcake in it for you._

She lets out an exaggerated sigh as she stands. “You don’t need to bribe me.”

She pushes her braid off her shoulder and adjusts the tank top that clings to her body, pulling it down over her underwear.

_Oh god, now I really am going to pass out._

“Peeta!” She jerks her chin up so she now stares at the lake. “Don’t look!”

 _I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were going to look down!_

Blushing, she keeps her eyes forward. She sees the lake as she wades in, but she sees the kitchen in the back of the bakery too. Her view of the latter shimmers, but when she focuses the picture is as vivid as the forest around her.

Peeta begins frosting a three-tier cake sitting in the middle of the worktable. She can feel his shoulders relax, hear his relieved sigh.

 _So much better,_ he says. _Thank you._

She stands knee deep in the water, mesmerized by his hands. He is so careful, so focused. His talent never ceases to amaze her. 

She remembers the time before Peeta’s voice, when she believed the merchant class had it so much easier than the people in the Seam. She assumed a boy like Peeta, outgoing, popular, the son of a baker, went to bed with a full stomach every night. She imagined decadent dinners of freshly baked bread and extravagant desserts.

Peeta was always so shy, so reticent, when she came to the back door to trade squirrels with his father. She couldn’t stand looking at Peeta, not with jealousy and hunger burning holes in her stomach. Not with the vivid dreams she had of him at night: his flour-covered hands kneading dough, his long, lean body tossing and turning in bed, his mother’s cruel words falling like daggers onto his shoulders.

But she knows better now. She understands that happiness isn’t just a roof over your head and a little food to eat. And she knows no matter how much cruelty there is in the world, even in one’s own house, people are still capable of astonishing beauty.

Peeta taught her that.

A branch breaks behind her, and she whips around.

“Hey, Catnip.”

“Gale! Don't look!” Without any of her usual finesse, she scrambles out of the water and grabs her pants. 

He slaps a hand over his eyes. “Sorry!” 

Peeta laughs. She scowls at his amusement, muttering for him to shut up as she quickly dries her legs and feet. After pulling on her pants, she begins to lace up her boots.

“You can look now,” she says. 

She spent the morning hunting and fishing with Gale. They visited the Hob to trade and eat lunch and parted ways almost two hours ago. Katniss didn’t expect him to return to the woods.

It isn’t that she’s unhappy to see him, but she was enjoying her quiet afternoon.

Peeta still hovers in the periphery, his hands hesitating over the cake. She is tempted to shut him out, but Gale's serious expression makes her nervous. 

She lets Peeta stay.

“Hey,” Gale says again. “I was hoping you’d be out here.”

“Yeah, I was just cooling off."

“I need to talk to you about something. If you’re not busy?”

She is clearly not busy. Today has delivered a rare gift: a carefree, lazy Sunday afternoon. They collected more than enough food this morning and traded the majority of it. Her mother is home, treating a patient with Prim’s help. Everything feels calm and still. There is so much to worry about in the coming week, but today, she pushes it all aside.

Gale’s reappearance makes her heart speed up. He invites the worry back.

“Can we sit?” he asks, gesturing to the grass.

“I’d rather stand.”

Gale takes a deep breath, and she knows what he is going to say. She hoped this conversation would never happen, that Gale would find someone else, someone who could reciprocate his feelings and give him the life he wanted. She knew she would lose him when he married. His free time would belong to his wife, a child, and she would miss her best friend fiercely.

But she wouldn’t miss him enough to give herself away.

"I know you don't want to get married—”

"Gale," she interrupts. "Don’t.”

"Wait, you need to hear me out."

She crosses her arms and looks down at her boots. Despite the sun overhead, despite the heat of the ovens, goosebumps cover her skin. She knows she has reached a crossroads in her life. At eighteen, she has finished school and must soon choose a means of survival: disappear into the mines or continue risking the woods.

There is enough to worry about without throwing a husband into the mix.

"It's been just the two of us for years. You and me taking care of our families. Why should that change? If we married, we could continue on just as we are now."

He knows her well enough to use logic and practicality instead of a declaration of love. But she knows him too. If they marry, things won’t continue as they are now. They can’t.

She swore she'd never marry, that she would never end up like her mother. If she wed Gale and he died, she’d mourn him, but she’s certain she would not shatter as her mother did. She loves Gale, but it’s different from the kind of love he feels for her.

Maybe that’s a good enough a reason to say yes, but she knows it isn't fair, not to him or herself.

"I don't want a husband," Katniss says. "And I definitely don't want children. You know that."

"You might change your mind in a few years," he says. "Ma's been dropping hints about a wife, and I'm not sure how much longer I can put it off, but I want it to be you, Katniss. I want to marry _you_.”

Her chest aches at his hopeful tone. A part of her wants to give in because she cannot stand to see him hurt, but another part grows hateful, makes her hands curl into fists. She will not change her mind. She made this decision seven years ago, and she hates that Gale thinks he can talk her out of it.

She knows he’s had girlfriends before, and there are plenty of girls in the Seam—even some from town—that would jump at the chance to be his wife. He’s handsome, strong, and loyal. He’s the kind of man you'd want to marry.

If you wanted to marry.

"I just want to get through this week," she says, careful to keep the fury out of her voice. "It's all I can think about right now."

"I understand." He rubs the back of his neck. He’s worried too. About her, his brothers. Prim. "It's your last reaping, and then you're free."

Yes, free to starve, free to watch another generation of children be sacrificed for entertainment, free to worry about Prim for another four years. What a freedom to have.

“I guess.”

“So you’ll think about what I said? After it's over?” Gale asks.

Before she can answer the scent of burning bread drifts over her, like smoke before a fire. Her gut twists with dread, but she isn’t sure if it’s from their conversation or the smell.

She looks past Gale. The ovens are in front of her, and then Peeta’s hands removing a tray of burnt loaves. Anxiety perches on her shoulder and pecks at her with its beak. 

"Katniss?" Gale asks. "Say something."

The ovens disappear, and the trees return, but the apprehension lingers. Gale’s hand is on her arm. She didn’t notice him get closer. 

She pulls away. "I’m sorry, I’m not—”

It’s not as much the pain as it is the surprise of the blow that knocks her to the ground. No sooner does she land on her hands and knees than another push sends her face first into the grass. 

"Katniss?" Gale drops to his knees and touches her shoulder. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Her mouth fills with the metallic taste of blood. She touches her lips, and finds her fingertips tinted red. Did she bite her tongue? She stares at her hand until her vision shimmers. Then it’s a different hand, a larger, stronger one dotted with blood.

The fury that has been building inside of her erupts when she feels the grip on the back of Peeta’s shirt. Now that she is focused, she’s able to stay down even as he’s yanked backward.

His mother orders him to his feet.

Gale says something, but she can’t hear him. She’s barely there in the forest. She’s filled with the scent of fire and blood, and the boiling heat of anger.

She stands in time to see Mrs. Mellark pull her arm back. On instinct, Katniss’s hand shoots up to block the attack, and Peeta’s hand does the same. While Katniss clutches empty air, Peeta holds his mother's wrist.

Katniss has never seen Peeta fight back before. He always apologizes or covers his head, but he has never laid a hand on his mother. Ever.

Mrs. Mellark’s mouth drops open. Her gaze burns.

 _What do you think you're doing_ , she spits out through clenched teeth. _Her voice is low, and her arm trembles._

Peeta's hesitation sweeps through Katniss.

"Don't," she said. "Don't back down." She conjures up strength, bravery, hope. She sends it out through the forest, across the space that separates them and squeezes her hand into a fist.

For a moment, it works. For a moment, Peeta squeezes his hand just as hard. Katniss can feel how thin his mother’s wrist is, how easy it would be to break. But Katniss also feels his resistance, his fear. It’s as if she is moving his limbs for him, forcing him to act against his will.

But that’s impossible. That’s never happened before.

"Katniss? Are you okay?" Gale is desperate now. “I think you’re having another episode. We need to get you to your mother.” He grabs her chin and forces her to look at him.

She loses her focus, and Peeta's resolve crumbles.

"No!"

The ferocity of that single word startles Gale. He takes a step back.

"What the hell? Katniss?"

Peeta's mother is cursing, seething. Her face is the color of Katniss’s fingertips, the blood on Peeta’s skin. 

_You think you can lay your hands on me? I'm your mother!_

Katniss has never seen Mrs. Mellark this angry. Not in the four years she has been privy to every part of Peeta’s life.

 _You don't think you deserve to be punished?_

Peeta apologizes over and over. Katniss wants him to shut up and run out the back door, disappear until his mother cools down, but he is rooted to the spot, held there by a childlike fear he will never grow out of. His mother has warped his mind with her cruelty, made him feel deserving of punishment, unworthy of love, and now he will always crumble in her presence no matter how tall or strong he grows.

Mrs. Mellark grabs the rolling pin off the counter and swings. Tears sting Katniss’s eyes, and she covers her mouth as if she can stop the pain. Peeta slams into the oven door. The hot metal sears his palms, the side of his face. He spits blood onto the floor. 

"She'll kill him," Katniss gasps.

"Who?” Gale demands. “What are you talking about?"

But she’s already tearing through the forest. When she reaches the fence, she hesitates for a split second to make sure it is still turned off before diving underneath.

She runs faster than she’s ever run before, including the time she was nearly killed by a pack of wild dogs. She had no idea she was capable of such speed. 

Mrs. Mellark continues to scream at her son, but for now the rolling pin hangs limply at her side.

_How dare you lay your hands on me! I am your mother! I put food on this table, I put a roof over your head, and you’re nothing but an ungrateful, lazy, worthless—_

Katniss doesn’t want to hear another word, but she can’t leave him alone. Not when Mrs. Mellark’s eyes burn with such intensity. Not when she emphasizes each insult with a slap. 

Katniss reaches the center of town as another blow from the rolling pin sends Peeta to the floor. His fear and helplessness are too strong. They make her hesitate in front of the bakery. She can’t do anything. She can’t save him. She is useless, worthless, pathetic—

“Peeta.” She has nothing else to offer him, no words of encouragement, no urgings to run. She only has his name, the reminder that he’s not alone.

It’s enough, at least, for her to remember herself. She isn’t weak or useless. Mrs. Mellark has no idea the kind of strength she has.

Mrs. Mellark raises the rolling pin once more. Katniss spots a rock the size of her fist lying nearby. Without another thought, she picks it up and hurtles it through the storefront window. The glass shatters, and the rock lands in the middle of a display cake, splattering frosting all over the walls.

Mrs. Mellark rushes out to the front of the store. Peeta hesitates a moment, dazed from the pain, before diving out the backdoor.

“You piece of Seam trash!” Mrs. Mellark shrieks as she bursts onto the street. She pushes Katniss, and Katniss is startled enough that she hits the ground. 

“How dare you! I’ll have you arrested for this. I’ll have you whipped!”

Peeta appears a few feet behind his mother. His face is a mess of blood and bruises and burns. The sight makes her sick.

He moves toward Katniss, but she shakes her head, and stands on her own.

A crowd gathers as Mrs. Mellark continues her rant. Two peacekeepers arrive and demand an explanation. Katniss stares at Peeta. She can’t separate her feelings from his, and while the helplessness is overwhelming, it is the guilt that hurts the most. It is sharp, jagged. It shreds her insides with every breath.

“She would have killed you. I couldn’t let her do it,” she whispers.

Even though Peeta stands several feet away, hidden by noise and people and the screech of his mother's voice, he hears her. He always hears her.

 _I’m sorry,_ he says.

*

She was eight when the scent of freshly baked bread pulled her out of a deep sleep. She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Prim who slept beside her. It was early. The miners, including her father, had not yet woken for work.

She crept into the kitchen, her stomach a gaping hole of hunger. There had been little to eat for dinner the night before, and she had given the majority of her stew to Prim when her parents weren’t looking.

Her father hadn’t eaten at all.

But this was a miracle! She was certain she’d find fresh bread sitting on the kitchen table, cooling in the early light of the morning.

The kitchen was dark, empty. There was no baking bread or any other food. There was nothing. But the smell lingered.

Katniss slammed through all the cabinets before she slumped to the floor and cried hot, angry tears.

Her mother found her, scooped her up into her arms, and tried to calm her.

Later, Mrs. Everdeen labeled the outburst as Katniss’s first “episode” of whatever illness she struggled with. The official word had been lost some generations ago, but her mother explained that the scent was a hallucination, and it was nothing to be afraid of.

Katniss wasn’t afraid. She was hungry.

*

Peeta doesn’t bother to tend his wounds or wash the blood off his face, so when he yells at the peacekeeper, flecks of blood land on the white uniform.

He receives a backhand for his trouble.

"Peeta, stop," Katniss says. Cray's second in command has already tied her to the whipping post and ripped open the back of her shirt.

Five lashings. She can survive five lashings. 

When Cray announced her sentence, Mrs. Mellark stomped her foot in a childish burst of outrage. “Five!” she screeched. “She deserves ten at least!”

Prim stands nearby with their mother and Gale, begging them to tell a peacekeeper that Katniss is sick. Mrs. Everdeen refuses to tell anyone about Katniss’s illness, afraid they will deem her crazy and take her away. Turn her into a freak to entertain the Capitol.

Only Katniss knows that her “episodes” aren’t hallucinations at all. They started off as glimpses of Peeta’s home life: scents and voices and textures. Now they are conversations held at inopportune times, or abuse Katniss is too unfocused to fight off. 

Gale, well aware of Katniss’s legacy of strange behavior, argued with every peacekeeper in sight. He even tried to take the blame, but Mrs. Cartwright corroborated Mrs. Mellark's complaint. Everyone else claimed not to have seen the culprit.

When Cray threatened to have Gale whipped in addition to Katniss, she begged Gale to stand down.

"This is ridiculous!" Peeta shouts. "She didn't do it."

Mrs. Mellark grabs him by the shirt and yanks him close. She speaks low enough that no one but Peeta—and Katniss—can hear.

_If you don't stop your hollering, I’ll see that you’re whipped too, whether it’s in the square or back at the house. Do you understand me?_

"Peeta, please," Katniss whispers, her face pressed into her arm so no one could see her lips moving. "You're going to feel this too if you don't focus on something else. You need to get out of here."

_I won't leave._

"Take Prim home. Ask her to clean you up. Distract her. Distract yourself. _Please._ "

His absence is sudden, like a bird taken down by an arrow. One moment it’s airborne, wings stretched to catch the wind, and the next, it is dead on the ground, an arrow through its eye. 

She didn’t know he was so good at severing their connection. She realizes then that he has never really done it before. It has always been her that shut it off. When she needs him, he is always there, waiting.

The emptiness that fills her is worse than the fear. Despite the crowd of people, despite the presence of her family and Gale, she feels terribly alone like she could scream and scream and no one would come to her aid. A strange kind of sadness, one she hasn't felt in years, not since her father died, since before Peeta’s voice found her, creeps up on her. Her throat aches from the tears she refuses to shed.

She forces herself to keep her eyes open, to focus on the pain in her wrists to keep herself from passing out. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Peeta leading Prim away. They look like siblings as they walk together, hand-in-hand. Prim looks back, but Katniss shakes her head.

Prim is out of sight by the time the whip comes down.

*

Katniss is on her stomach in bed for twenty-four hours before her mother allows her to move. 

And then it is only to sit up, careful not to rest her back against any surfaces.

It’s been a day and a half, but Peeta has remained silent, and she is too stubborn to speak first. This is the longest time they have gone without talking since their connection manifested.

Before their connection, they never spoke at all.

They still haven’t spoken face to face. Peeta has tried to visit or catch her eye in school, but she ignores him every time. The problem is that he knows more about her than anyone else in her life. More than Gale.

More than Prim.

It’s not as if he can read her mind, but he experiences everything she does by tapping into her senses. And she tells him everything anyway.

(Well, almost everything.)

It’s not just that he saved her life when he tossed her those burnt loaves of bread seven years ago, or when he talked her out of her stupor when faced with a pack of wild dogs. He’s her best friend. For four years, he has been a constant companion, an encouraging, hopeful voice, full of kindness and compassion.

She takes him everywhere she goes.

Seeing him in person, having a conversation, seems crazy. Terrifying. After everything they have said to each other, after all the secrets they have witnessed firsthand, how they can possibly interact?

Still, she should have known he would try to visit her again after everything that happened in the square, but she is still surprised when Prim leads Peeta into the bedroom.

Their mother isn’t home, so Prim shuts the door and leaves them alone.

Katniss can’t look at him. How can this beautiful, kindhearted boy who could have any friend he wanted, any _girl_ friend he wanted, be standing in her bedroom? She is sullen, antisocial, angry.

She scowls more than she smiles.

How can he want to see her? How could he ever want…

“Stop.”

It’s the first word Peeta has ever spoken to her face.

“What?” she asks. She looks at him, finally. No matter how many glimpses she gets of him, he always takes her breath away. Even now, with his red, blistered cheek, the bruising that nearly swallows one of his blue eyes, he is the most handsome boy she has ever seen.

When he is just a voice, a feeling, she can pretend he is hers. But in person, she is reminded not only that he doesn’t belong to her, but that she doesn’t want him to.

“I can feel that,” he says. “You’re feeling worthless. You can’t really believe that.”

“Peeta, I think you should go.”

“I had to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

“You could do that without coming all the way over here,” she says.

“I _wanted_ to come all the way over here. I wanted to see you, not see through you.”

He approaches the bed, reaches for her. She slams her back into the wall in her haste to dodge him. Tears fill her eyes as pain scorches her back.

“Don’t,” she says, holding up a hand. “Don’t touch me.”

The only thing scarier than seeing him is the idea of being touched by him. She cannot take both in the same night.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “I wasn’t going to jump on you or anything. I’m just concerned.”

“I’m fine, Peeta. Really.” A sudden thought occurs to her, and she frowns. “Are you trying to avoid your mother? Is that why you’re here? Because I’m sure my mom will let you sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s not that.” He sits on the edge of her bed, a good two feet from where she hovers in front of the wall. “I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she mumbles. Her gut twists with nausea. She can’t tell if it’s the conversation, the pain, or merely Peeta’s presence that makes her feel so ill. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly. I didn’t do a god damn thing.”

“I know why. I understand. I think I understand more than anybody why you didn’t.”

He looks up at her, and she forces herself to maintain eye contact. She grows warm under her gaze. A shudder passes through her, and she looks away.

“Throwing the rock was my decision. Not yours,” she says.

“You shouldn’t have done anything.”

“She could have killed you! She was going to slam that rolling pin into your head! She was so angry, so…hateful.” Katniss doesn’t bring up why Mrs. Mellark was so much angrier than usual. She doesn’t want to consider that she forced Peeta’s hand. He almost broke his mother’s wrist, and it was probably her fault.

Peeta stares down at his lap and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m still sorry. Knowing you were hurt because of me…I can’t stand the idea of you hurt, Katniss. For any reason.”

“I’m fine though. Really.” She forces a smile. “My mother is taking really good care of me.”

Peeta nods. “Good. There’s just one more thing.” He stands and pulls the back of his shirt up.

There are faint red lines running up and down his back, almost like lashes from a whip.

Her hand shoots forward, but she catches herself before she can touch his skin. “She whipped you? I’ll kill her. I swear, Peeta…”

“No, that’s the thing. She hasn’t touched me since Sunday. I think these are…I think they’re from what happened to you.”

“But that’s impossible! That’s never happened before.” Katniss had been a victim of Mrs. Mellark’s attacks in the past. If Katniss wasn’t completely focused, if she was taken by surprise, she often hit the ground when he did, felt the same pain he did. But it never left a mark.

She thinks of the blood on her fingertips after Peeta fell, of the way she tightened her grip and suddenly he was doing the same to his mother’s wrist.

“But you weren’t even there. I mean…” She touches her head. “You were gone.”

“I didn’t even feel it. It wasn’t until after Prim fixed me up and I got home that I realized there were marks.”

Katniss shakes her head. “That’s impossible. You must have hit your back when you fell. Or maybe it’s an old injury from wrestling.”

“Katniss…”

“I think you should go now. I’m exhausted. I need to rest before tomorrow.”

“Right. Our last reaping.”

“Goodnight, Peeta. Thank you for coming by, but I would rather you didn’t.”

“Alright. If that’s what you really want.”

She doesn’t say anything or look his way. He lets himself out.

Long after Peeta leaves, he lingers in her mind: his words, his injuries, his scent. She knows he often smells of flour and cinnamon. She can detect it whenever they communicate, but it is so much more intoxicating in person.

Later that night, after her mother and Prim are asleep, she hears him.

_Hey. Are you still awake?_

Despite the tension of their earlier conversation, she is thrilled to hear his voice.

“Yes,” she whispers. “I can’t sleep.”

_Me neither._

Katniss slips out of bed, and wanders into their kitchen. A paper bag waits in the middle of the table.

_Look inside._

She parts the top of the bag and finds a fresh loaf of bread.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

 _For breakfast tomorrow,_ he says. _For good luck._

She smiles so wide, she forgets the pain that still lingers, the concern over Peeta’s injury. For a moment, she even forgets her fear of tomorrow.

“It looks delicious,” she says, except she really means something else, something she doesn’t know how to say. “Thank you.”

_You’re welcome._

He understands what she means, how she feels.

He always does.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful feedback!

The morning of her last reaping, Katniss’s hands shake so hard, she has to ask Prim to fix her hair.

The movement of the brush, the feel of its teeth against her scalp soothe her, but she can’t keep the dread from her thoughts. No matter what happens, today is her last reaping. She must hold on to that.

Her mother tries to make her feel better with soft words and a hand on her shoulder. Even Prim shakes off her own fear long enough to hug Katniss and wish her luck.

In the end, it is the bread that calms her. It’s grown cooler overnight, but she toasts it over the fire, leaving it warm and crusty on the outside and soft on the inside.

She can’t help but associate Peeta’s bread with hope. For something as miraculous as a better life. For something as simple as survival.

She squeezes her eyes shut as she swallows a bite and sends the warmth she feels outward, toward Peeta.

His response is a gentle touch on the back of her neck. She sees him then, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, his hand on his own neck. His eye looks worse than it did the night before. It is completely swollen shut. Without thinking, she traces the skin beneath her own eye, gently, carefully, like she would touch his.

He smiles in the mirror.

A knock on the front door startles her. She looks toward the sound and finds Prim giving her a quizzical look. Before either can say a word, Mrs. Everdeen leads Gale inside. His presence is a reminder that Katniss has something else to think about. But Gale’s proposal is for later. To worry about that now is a luxury she doesn't have.

“Would you like some bread?” Mrs. Everdeen asks Gale. “Peeta dropped some off last night.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something Katniss cannot identify. He declines.

“I thought I’d walk with you today. If that’s okay?” He looks to Katniss for permission.

“Of course,” she says, surprised. He has his own brothers to worry about. Perhaps walking with Katniss will provide him with a necessary distraction.

Once the dishes are cleared, they start toward the Justice Building. Katniss can tell Gale has something to say, so she hangs back with him as Prim and her mother drift further ahead.

“I didn’t know you knew Peeta,” he says.

“Of course, I know Peeta,” Katniss says. “He was in my year at school. And we traded with his father.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be a little clearer.” She’s not sure why she’s getting defensive when Gale has barely said anything, but she hates talking about Peeta with others. He’s hers. Sometimes she forgets he exists outside of her head.

“He dropped off bread for you.”

Katniss looks down at her feet. “So?”

“I just didn’t realize you knew him well. That’s all.”

She bites her lip, considers her words. This could easily turn into a fight if she’s not careful, so she decides to tell a version of the truth.

“He wanted to check on me. Make sure I was doing okay.”

“I tried to come by. Your mother said you didn't want visitors."

"I didn't. Prim let him in." There is nothing untrue about this statement, but it still tastes like a lie.

"How _are_ you doing?” Gale asks.

“I'm okay, I guess, as long as nothing touches my back.”

They’re silent as they walk along the dusty path, closer and closer to the center of town. Soon they’ll pass the bakery.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” Gale asks.

“You saw what happened. I broke their window, and Mrs. Mellark caught me.”

“But why'd you do it?”

His gaze is like a physical touch, a demand. She wipes her sweaty palms against her dress.

“I was confused,” she finally says.

“Confused?”

“I was hearing things during my, uh, you know…” She hates saying the word aloud even to a man who doesn’t care. A man who wants to marry her despite her “episodes.” Sometimes she gets too caught up inside her head and thinks, maybe they are just episodes. Maybe nothing about her relationship with Peeta is real.

Maybe she is crazy.

“You were saying some strange stuff.”

“I don’t know what happened exactly. I had the sudden urge to get to the bakery. I thought…” She swallows, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“You said ‘she’ll kill him.’”

“I did? When?” Katniss finally meets his stare. She doesn't remember saying the words, but she isn't surprised.

“Right before you took off, that’s what you said. And Mellark…he didn’t look so good when I got there.”

“He didn’t? I didn’t see. I was tied to the post.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Gale flinch.

“When he came to see me he had a black eye. His skin didn’t look right,” she says as if to make up for her previous lie.

“Do you remember when you were bit by that wild dog?” Gale asks suddenly.

What a question to ask. What a memory to bring up. “Yes,” she says. “That was like four years ago.”

“Rye Mellark showed up at my door asking if I knew where you were. It’s why I went looking for you. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“I don’t know. Something just made me think of it, I guess.”

Katniss isn’t sure what to say next, but she’s saved by the appearance of Mr. Mellark.

“Can I borrow Katniss for a moment, please?” he asks Gale.

“Of course.” Gale squeezes her hand. “I’ll see you after, okay? It won’t be you today.”

“It won't be your family either."

He nods as if now that it's been said, there isn’t any room for negotiation. Katniss and his brothers will be safe. 

That’s that.

“Hi, Mr. Mellark. I’m sorry about your window,” Katniss says once Gale has walked off. She watches him head toward his family. He stoops down to give Posy a hug.

Mr. Mellark waves his hand, dismissing her apology or the window. She’s not sure which. “Don’t worry about it. Windows can be fixed. I’m more concerned about your back. Are you all right?”

Mr. Mellark has always seemed kind. He reminds her of Peeta in a way. But how good of a person can he possibly be to allow such violence to go on in his home? She doesn’t like him, and she doesn’t trust him.

“I’m okay. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about my wife. She gets upset so easily. She tends to take things too far.”

“I’ve noticed. How’s Peeta’s eye?” she fires back.

Mr. Mellark flinches. “Not so good.”

“Did he break a window too?”

Another grimace, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“I’m here to invite you to work a few days at the bakery to pay off the window repair,” he says. “My wife wants the money upfront, but I figured it’d be easier to have you pay it in installments.”

Katniss stares down at her feet, at the dust covering her dirty, banged-up boots. How didn’t she think of this before? The whipping was only part of her punishment. Of course she would be expected to compensate the Mellarks for the destruction of their property. Mrs. Mellark would love to see her punished further for being unable to pay. At least Mr. Mellark was offering her another option.

But if she works there, she’ll have to see Peeta. Speak to him. Be close to him. 

She shivers, excited and terrified at the prospect. She’s not sure why she’s so afraid. He knows her so well. What could he possibly discover that would make him turn away?

“Alright.”

“Come over tomorrow morning. Around seven if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.”

“Perfect.” He pats her shoulder once and gives her a smile. It’s a gentle, fatherly gesture, and it makes her heart hurt.

“It won’t be you today,” he says, echoing Gale’s early statement. “You and your sister will be fine.”

She smiles, appreciative that he remembered to lump Prim in with her. The Everdeen girls, safe and home tonight. 

She wonders if it’s too much to hope for.

*

Katniss was fourteen when she nearly died for the second time in her short life. She staggered through the forest, feverish and alone. She didn’t understand her sudden illness. Only twenty minutes before she had taken down two squirrels and a bird. Now she barely had the energy to return to her bow’s hiding place. 

Dizziness sent her to her knees, and she vomited up her breakfast. She lay in the grass, curled up into a ball. One minute. Two tops. That was all she needed to right herself.

The sounds of the forest drifted over her: the birds overhead, calling out to one another, the wind rustling the leaves. But far away, as if heard through a thick wall, were voices. She heard a few words clearly ( _useless, pathetic, ungrateful_ ) then glass shattering and a door slamming.

Perfect. Not only was she sick and alone in the middle of the forest, but she was also in the midst of one of her “episodes.” Auditory hallucinations this time. She used to report every instance to her mother except her mother was having an “episode” herself. Katniss’s usually lasted a few minutes. Her mother’s was three years and counting.

Katniss heard a branch break. Then another.

A low growl emanated from behind a cluster of trees a few yards to her right. She sat up slowly, her dizziness giving way to a terrible headache. A wave of dread swept her common sense away. She was frozen, terrified.

 _You need to get out of here_ , she told herself.

The first dog appeared.

_You need to climb a tree, get some place high._

Two more dogs loomed behind the first. 

_Run_ , she thought. _You have to move. You have to run._

 _Run!_ A different voice this time, deeper but much more urgent shouted inside her head.

 _Get up! Run!_ the voice repeated.

She jumped to her feet. Pain exploded behind her eyes, but she had to move. As soon as she turned, the dogs gave chase, and she ran through the forest as fast as she could. She was almost out of breath when she spotted a tree with a low hanging branch. She grabbed it, but one of the dogs was too fast. His teeth found her ankle, and she cried out.

_Kick him!_

Somehow, she held onto the branch as she twisted around and kicked the dog with her free foot. With a whine, it fell back, and she pulled herself up.

 _You have to go higher_ , the voice demanded.

Her strength was almost gone, but she climbed. After another several feet, she decided she was high enough and fell back against the tree.

The trio of wild dogs growled at the bottom, their claws scratching the trunk. They jumped and barked, foaming at their mouths.

 _Can you shoot them?_ the voice asked.

Without thinking, she answered the voice. “I don’t have my bow.”

_You’re safe for now. You should rest._

Nausea swept through her once more, but this time it had nothing to do with her sudden fever. Never before had she attempted to engage with one her hallucinations. And now, it had spoken back.

Was she losing her mind? What if she ended up like her mother, a quiet, pale ghost that kept to a bed that doubled as a grave?

Before today, her episodes were a nuisance and nothing more. Now they were something to fear.

She slapped her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut, and chanted “Not real” underneath her breath.

 _This is the strangest dream I’ve ever had about you_ , the voice said. _Must be the fever._

Her hallucinations were usually murky or muffled, but this one was completely clear. It was as if this voice was here, sitting beside her on the branch.

“Who is this?” She knew who it sounded like, who she dreamt of nearly every night, but she had to be sure.

 _It’s Peeta. Peeta Mellark?_ When she didn’t respond, he elaborated, _The baker’s son?_

“I know who you are, Peeta.” How could she not? Once upon a time, he had saved her life.

_Oh. I wasn’t sure._

“Where are you?” She might as well play along. Maybe she could end these hallucinations once and for all.

_I’m home in bed._

“Are you sick?” she asked. “You said you had—” She cut herself off as her vision shimmered. A picture of a white ceiling overlaid her view of the forest. The more time that passed, the clearer the image became until suddenly, she could see only the ceiling, and then walls, and then hands.

Peeta’s hands.

_Katniss? Are you okay?_

“Are you in your bedroom?” she asked. “Are you lying down?”

_Yes._

“Can you see the forest?”

_Yes. I’ve never been out there. It’s so…green._

“You’re not real,” she said. “You can’t be.”

Her ankle throbbed. She brushed dead leaves off her jeans and pulled up her pant leg to examine the dog bite. It was worse than she first thought. Blood seeped out of the dirt-covered wound. She wondered how fast it would become infected.

_That doesn’t look good._

“You can see that? What else can you see?”

_Nothing else right now. Just your leg. Oh! Now the dogs._

Katniss jerked her head back up. She had looked down to check if the dogs still hovered at the base of the tree. They were, but that wasn’t what had her so startled.

“You’re seeing what I see. You’re hearing what I hear.”

 _You’re a fever dream_ , he said. _I dream about you all the time._

“What do you dream exactly?”

_I dream about you hunting. About you brushing and braiding your hair. The stories you tell your sister. The nights you can’t sleep because of hunger pains. Those are the worst. I can’t sleep those nights either._

Her dreams consisted of him baking, decorating, and never getting to eat any of the desserts. She dreamt of stale bread and harsh words and his mother’s eyes constantly watching, waiting for him to mess up.

“Peeta,” she said. “Are you real?”

She felt prickly with heat, shivery with cold. Her fever was worsening. 

_Are you okay?_ he asked. _You don’t…feel right._

Her vision shimmered again, but this time the two images blurred together and faded. Light-headed and confused, she trembled. The tree branch suddenly felt much less sturdy.

A new voice entered her head: _Peeta, are you okay? Were you calling for me?_

_No, Dad, I was just thinking out loud. I…what time is it?_

_Half-past five_ , Mr. Mellark said. 

_Katniss…Katniss Everdeen? She was supposed to come by with my homework from today. It’s not like her to keep me waiting so long._

_Perhaps she’s busy at home_ , Mr. Mellark said. _I’m sure your teachers will understand._

_No, something’s wrong. She wouldn’t just not come._

_I didn’t realize you were friends with Katniss Everdeen._

_I am. We are. I…I’m worried, Dad._

_There’s not much I can do._

_Fine, I’ll go._ Peeta ripped his blanket back and stood. The dizziness that cut through him swept through Katniss as well. It knocked her off balance, and she fell from her branch, barely catching herself from falling to the ground.

_Katniss!_

Mr. Mellark tried to steer Peeta back into bed, but he knocked his father’s hand away. 

_There’s something wrong!_ Peeta exclaimed, the panic in his voice rising. _I need to check on her._

Katniss used her last burst of strength to heave herself back onto the branch. She wrapped herself around it, her cheek rubbing against the rough bark. Her joints already ached. She wasn’t sure how long she could hold her current position.

_Peeta, calm down. I’ll send Rye, okay? He’ll check her house._

_And Gale’s house. Gale Hawthorne. He’s her boyfriend. He’ll know where she is._

Katniss lost the connection then. Or her episode finished. Whichever. All she knew was that she was once again alone in the woods, feverish, bleeding, and stuck in a tree. While she could not see them, she heard the sniffing and scratching of the three dogs below.

When Gale showed up thirty minutes later, softly calling her name, it was a miracle. He scared the dogs off, helped Katniss out of the tree, and carried her home.

Later that night, as she lay in bed, her ankle wrapped carefully by Prim, Katniss heard his voice again:

_Did he get you? Are you all right?_

She didn’t know why she didn’t hesitate or question what had happened. All she knew was that she felt better, less alone. So she smiled, hid her face in her pillow, and whispered, “Yes.”

*

“Katniss!”

She startles at the sound of his voice. At first, she thinks it is in her mind, but then she feels his presence as he approaches. She can track his gaze as it moves from the top of her head, down her braid, settling on her blue dress. 

She turns.

“Hi,” she says. She wonders if she will ever get used to speaking with him in person. She’s not sure she wants to.

“Hi,” Peeta says. “I just wanted to say good luck today.”

She forces a smile. “You too.”

“I’m sure you and Prim will be fine.”

So everyone says. She wonders if there’s a rule: say it enough, and the universe will deliver. But will the universe save her as everyone wishes, or will it take her or Prim away, proving that the world is cruel and unpredictable?

She decides neither is true. The world is neither mean nor kind. It just is.

It’s unlikely that Peeta, who has never had to put in for tesserae will be called. Sure, it’s his last year, but there are merchant children younger than him with their names entered more times. Merchant kids are rarely chosen.

She’s jealous, just for a moment, at the certainty of his life: food on the table, however stale; a warm bed; a full stomach. Sometimes she forgets that there are other things he cannot trust or hope for.

She nods once and turns to get in line for check in when his voice stops her once more.

“A few of us are getting together to celebrate after.”

“Celebrate?” she asks.

“I guess that’s the wrong word.” He furrows his brows, shrugs his shoulders. “But it’s the only one I can think of. We’ll celebrate that it’s over. That’s it not us.”

“Seems wrong.”

He takes a step closer, lowers his voice. “What about this isn’t wrong?”

She turns away, surprised at his sudden rebelliousness. He’s usually more tightlipped about their circumstances.

“Anyway, I thought maybe you could join us? Or…”

“Or what?” she prompts.

“Maybe you and I could do something? Go to the lake?” he asks. “I don’t know how to swim.”

“We’re not allowed in the woods,” she reminds him. And she’s not allowed to touch him. She can’t. Touching him, feeling him, makes him real. She still can’t decide if she wants him to be real or a made-up voice in her head.

Real people cause pain. Real people let you down.

“Then we can walk along the edge of the fence. See what happens.” He grins.

“I’m supposed to meet with Gale after all this,” she says. “I have to give him an answer.”

Peeta’s face darkens, but only for an instant. “Right away? You don’t get any extra time to let today sink in and think?”

“You want me to say no.”

“I want you to make your own choice. Whatever you think is right.”

She considers his words. She knows what the right choice is, and what the right choice for her is. Unfortunately, they are not the same. Putting off facing Gale and spending time with Peeta doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. She’ll have to get used to Peeta, anyway, if she’s going to work at the bakery.

“Okay,” she finally says.

“Okay?”

“I’ll teach you to swim.”

“Okay,” he says again. “Yeah. I’m going to go check in.”

He turns to rush off, as if he is suddenly excited to stand around with a bunch of other kids his age, like cattle corralled in a field.

“Peeta!” she yells. He turns back. “I'll see you soon.”

He smiles.

*

 _Not me_ , she thinks. _Not Prim. Not me. Not Prim._ She's grateful that Peeta cannot peer inside her head and listen to her mantra. She should add him to the list. The Hawthornes too. But her capacity to hope is so small.

_Not me. Not Prim._

"Welcome, welcome!" Effie Trinket announces. She is dressed in green this year. Her hair, usually a puff of white, is thinner, sleeker. It sticks up sharply, like green blades across her skull.

Her dress is just as sharp, all crisscrossed angles, jumbled pieces of green fabric. It looks as if Effie will slice herself if she moves too quickly.

All too soon, it is time for the tributes to be named. Katniss clasps her hands together in front of her, and pretends she holds Peeta's hand. Far away, she senses that he is doing the same.

"As always, ladies first," Effie says, click-clacking across the cement stage toward the bowl. Her ivy green fingernails disappear into the bowl of names. She ruffles the pile back and forth before, finally, plucking one out.

It takes Effie years to walk back to the microphone. In that span of time, Katniss is called, sent to the Capitol, murdered on national television. She lives and dies in those few steps. 

_Not me. Not Prim. Not me. Not Prim._

"Marjorie Vosch."

It's over. It is not Katniss. It is a tall, thin girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen with dark hair and dark eyes, and it is not Katniss.

This girl will almost certainly die in the next couple of weeks, and Katniss is relieved. Celebrate is the wrong word, but it is the only one that fits.

It will never be her. After today, her name will no longer be printed out and slipped into the bowl. 

She thinks of what Gale said, about being free. In that moment, she feels it, the chains broken, her entire life stretching ahead of her. She thinks of early mornings hunting and late nights sitting in front of the fire. She thinks of lazy Sundays stretched out in front of the lake, drying in the sun. She thinks of today, of leading Peeta to her spot in the woods, a place she has only ever shared with Gale.

She thinks of the summer, of how full it is with possibility. There are choices now. It seems almost laughable that she feared making a decision, when it is all she ever wanted. The freedom to choose, the freedom to hope.

She closes her eyes, and Peeta's relief washes over her, mingles with her own. It feels like a cool stream, and she thinks of how they'll be swimming soon. She'll teach him to float on his back, his arms outstretched, his fingertips brushing hers in the water.

She’s so caught up in her daydream she almost misses the male tribute’s name:

“Peeta Mellark!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and leaving comments & kudos! Special thanks to the very talented loving-mellark for the gorgeous banner and pre-reading this chapter. A huge thank you to amelinazenitram for being an amazing & fantastic beta.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

The mine was dark, quiet. There had been others up ahead—her father and his friends—but Katniss was alone now, stumbling down a narrow path. She trailed her hands along the wall to orient herself. It was so dark, she couldn’t see an inch in front of her.

“Dad?” Her voice sounded weak. She tried again, louder—“Dad?”

Silence was her answer.

She picked up her pace. Panic weighed down her limbs, made her clumsy. “Dad!”

“Katniss?” His voice was far away. It might have been an echo. A memory.

“Dad!” She began to run, but she tripped, hit the ground. She was on her hands and knees when she felt the reverberation of the explosion. She heard it a split second later.

“Dad!” She was screaming now, scrambling to her feet. “Run!”

She jerked awake, breathing heavy, sweat matting her hair to her neck and face. Tears stung her eyes. Hyperventilating, she twisted out of bed and rushed out the back door. 

Air. She needed air.

Almost five years had passed since the men had come to her home to tell her family her father was gone. Crushed. Asphyxiated. One of the two.

Still, the nightmares slipped into her subconscious. Even when she was free from stress—happy, even—they played behind her eyelids like the Games on the projector screen.

She sat on the back porch, head between her legs, the claustrophobia still clinging to her skin. Her hands shook so hard her bones rattled. She couldn’t imagine going back to sleep.

She might never sleep again.

_Hey, you’re okay._

His voice was a balm on a wound she didn’t realize she had. Her breathing came a little easier.

“Peeta.”

_You’re okay,_ he repeated. _It was just a dream._

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

_It’s all right. I’m glad I woke up too._

“You have an early shift tomorrow. You should go back to sleep.”

_I’ll go back to sleep when you do._

The trembling subsided. She was cold, exhausted, but her eyes were wide and stubborn.

“I might be up for a while.”

_That’s fine._

She recognized the pantry in the backroom of the bakery. Peeta sat against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. With his family asleep upstairs, he could speak aloud without being caught. Guilt hung over her, but mostly, she was relieved that she wasn’t alone.

This happened sometimes, their dreams overlapping. Sometimes they were unsure from whom the dream had originated. Only a couple of weeks ago, Katniss had dreamt of Peeta in the bakery kitchen, his arms coated with flour as he kneaded dough for the morning’s bread. She had brought two squirrels to trade, but his father hadn’t been around.

He had offered a kiss in exchange for one of the squirrels and, for whatever reason, she had thought it a fair price. A part of her believed she was getting the better deal.

She had woken up just before their lips met. She had sensed his eyes opening across town, the same dream lingering in his subconscious. They were never able to read each other’s minds when they were awake, but at night, whatever wall that existed between them came down.

They didn’t speak that night or bring up the dream in the days that followed. She was embarrassed, certain that the dream had come from her.

But it was just as possible that it had been his.

_Go lay down._

“We won’t be able to talk.”

_Go lay down. You need to try to sleep._

She stood and stretched, her mind wandering from the depths of coalmine to the back of the bakery. The dream may have ended before their lips touched, but his hands had been on her face, coating her cheeks with flour. It had felt so real that when she woke, she had expected to find the soft white powder streaked across her skin.

She crept back into the bedroom, grateful that Prim had fallen asleep in their mother’s bed. She slipped beneath the covers and stared at the wall, waiting for Peeta to say something else.

_I heard a rumor at school that someone beat up Everett Mikelson._

She shoved her face into her pillow. “Peeta,” she scolded.

_Shh, you’ll wake up Prim._ He scratched the back of his neck, and she had to squash the urge to do the same.

_I heard Everett was pissed that I beat him at our last practice. He called me some colorful words, said he was going to corner me after school. Next thing you know, he’s got a broken nose and a black eye._

Katniss blushed, remembering the satisfying crunch Everett’s nose made under her fist. She didn’t enjoy hurting people, but he had deserved it. She knew she would never get in trouble because Everett would never admit to being beaten up by a girl. And she had warned him that if he ever laid a finger on Peeta, he’d receive something much worse through his eye.

Everett’s father traded with Katniss. Everett knew what she meant without her having to say it.

“I didn’t hear that,” Katniss whispered.

_Weird. Delly told me. She seemed pretty pleased about what happened. Can’t imagine why. Delly doesn’t hold animosity toward anyone._

Katniss’s gut twisted at the mention of Delly Cartwright. She was always hanging around Peeta, chattering about shared family dinners or the walks they took through town. She was nice enough, but Katniss couldn’t bring herself to like her.

She wondered if he preferred girls like Delly, girls who frowned when others were mistreated, but left the action to the guys.

_So you don’t know anything about what happened to Everett._

Katniss shook her head. Peeta picked up on the movement.

_Strange_ , he mumbled.

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound their synchronized breathing. Katniss’s eyes grew heavy as she studied the food in Peeta’s pantry. Years ago, such a glimpse at the amount of food he had would have made her jealous, but she knew better now. Peeta got to cook with all those ingredients, but he rarely had the chance to eat any of it.

_Thank you_ , he finally said.

“For what?”

_For standing up for me._

She didn’t see the point in playing dumb anymore. He obviously knew exactly what had happened. 

“That’s what you and I do,” Katniss whispered. “We protect each other.”

*

Peeta is fast, but not fast enough.

Katniss feels _everything_ : his horror, his fear, his certainty that he will die. He fills her with it in the space between his name being called and the moment he severs the connection.

It's too much for one person. His fear mingles with hers, dances with her despair, and she sinks to her knees. Every breath she takes is short, disrupted. She can't get enough air into her lungs.

Her fingernails dig into the soft earth, and then into her palms as she makes fists. She wants to cut through her skin, gouge the bone, because physical pain would be better than this.

Far away is Effie's voice, but she can't look because if she looks then it's real. He's gone.

"Katniss?"

Madge comes from out of nowhere and touches Katniss's shoulder. She leans down and repeats Katniss's name. "Are you okay?"

Katniss shakes her head. She cannot speak. There are no words, only the language of despair that she is fluent in. Madge wouldn't understand. Couldn't.

And she will not allow herself to cry.

"Peeta," she finally says. She's not sure if she's trying to talk to him or Madge, but it's hard to be sure of anything when the sky is caving in.

The crowd begins to disperse, the eighteen-year-olds off to celebrate that it wasn't them. No, it was Peeta, and they'll drink and dance and fuck, happy to be alive, happy it was Peeta.

How can anyone celebrate now? How can anyone be happy it's him?

Finally, she looks up at the stage. It's empty.

"Are you going to say goodbye?" Madge asks. She rubs Katniss's back, but quickly stops when Katniss lets out a hiss of pain.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I forgot," Madge says.

Prim runs over, with Gale and Mrs. Everdeen rushing behind her.

"Are you okay?" Mrs. Everdeen asks. Prim lays a hand on Katniss's forehead to check her temperature.

Katniss's vision shimmers for just a second, and she sees the room, Peeta's mother and father, his two brothers. She sees pained expressions and hears stilted words, and she feels it, oh god, she _feels_ it. All those years of abuse and the knowledge that he is unwanted swim to the surface, simmer there.

Then, he's gone once more.

"I'm fine," Katniss says. Nausea shudders through her, but she ignores it. "I just felt dizzy."

Gale helps her up, his hand hovering over her back but careful not to touch it. She feels the heat of his hand, can track its movements just above her skin. She wants to flinch away from him, but she can't explain why.

"I'm going to go get in line," Madge says. "To say goodbye. I'll see you over there?"

Katniss nods.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Prim asks.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Really." Katniss runs a hand over Prim's single braid. Prim claims to be too old now for two.

"Did you have an episode?" Mrs. Everdeen asks.

Katniss shakes her head. "It was just hot. That's all."

Mrs. Everdeen studies her daughter for a moment, but she knows there is no use in pushing the issue. "We'll see you at home. Okay?" She wraps an arm around Prim to guide her away.

“Tell Peeta goodbye for me?” Prim asks. “Tell him good luck.” She grasps Katniss’s hand and squeezes before walking away with their mother.

"I'll wait with you," Gale says.

"No, it's okay."

"I'll wait with you," Gale repeats.

With no energy left to argue, she turns around without another word and heads to the line. It’s filled with kids from school, including Delly and Madge. Katniss is the very last. Panic grows inside of her like a weed. She worries there won't be enough time.

Only twenty minutes ago, she had promised to take him into the woods, teach him to swim. They were drowning in time then, choking on it. She was foolish to believe that time was as endless as the lake seemed to be when she held her breath, closed her eyes, and forced herself to sink.

She’d had so many chances to speak with him face to face, but she allowed fear to rule her life. Now it is all too possible that she will be in his presence only one more time.

Delly exits the Justice Building with tears in her eyes, slipping past the peacekeepers that guard Peeta’s door. Madge leaves with a surprising hardness in her expression. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, and she doesn’t say a word to anyone.

Finally, it is Katniss’s turn. She forces Gale to wait outside.

As soon as the door is shut behind her, she rushes toward him, his name on her lips. For a moment, it’s the only word she knows. He looks so vulnerable with one eye swollen shut, the raw red skin on his face. Does he look like a formidable opponent? She hopes the other tributes will see his wounds and assume he is trouble rather than someone defeated.

“Do you think you’ll die too?” he asks.

She freezes a few steps away, the fear and horror whipping through her like a violent gust of wind. Death is here, a shadow over her shoulder, smiling at him.

Maybe at her too.

“What?” she breathes.

“When I die in the arena—”

“If,” Katniss corrects.

“Do you think you’ll die too?”

Katniss shakes her head. “Of course not. You’ve been injured before without it affecting me. As long as I’m concentrating—”

“But you bled when my mother hit me. I have marks on my back from the whip.” He shakes his head. “This has to be goodbye. A real goodbye. I’m not letting you back in.”

All the breath leaves her body. She tries to imagine a world without his voice in her head, but she can’t. She _can’t_.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. “I have to be with you. I have to know what’s going on. You’re going to come home. You’re going to win.”

“I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I—”

“You can. You’re strong. You’re brave. And you have something the other tributes don’t.”

“What?”

“Me.” It hits her then, the advantage the connection gives them. She has no idea if it’ll lose strength over such an enormous distance, but she has to hope, has to try. “I can see the arena on screen. I can hear the commentators. I can be your eyes and ears. Whatever you need me to be.”

Peeta shakes his head. “I need you to be safe.”

“Don’t pull this noble crap now,” Katniss insists. “Let me help you.”

“If you get hurt because of me, I won’t be able to bear it, Katniss. I can’t let it happen.”

The doors open suddenly. A peacekeeper announces that time is up. 

The world collapses.

“No!” she shouts. Without another thought, she charges Peeta, wraps her arms around his neck. In that moment, the world rights itself. All that is shattered within her pieces itself back together. The pain in her back disappears. Her lungs open and welcome in air.

His arms are warm, strong, steady, and in them, she is whole.

“I’m bringing you home,” she whispers into his ear before the peacekeepers yank her away.

“Don’t shut me out!” she calls. “Promise me! Promise—” The slamming of the door cuts off the rest of her words.

The peacekeepers shove her backwards, but Gale is there to catch her, his hands grabbing her hips. Her back bumps his chest, and it is a wave of fire cascading down her body.

The pain is secondary to her panic and fear. She hasn’t felt this afraid since a group of coalminers came to her door, and her mother fainted in the hallway. She rushed to her mother, knelt beside her, and knew her world had changed forever before any of the men had opened their mouths.

Gale says her name. Maybe more than once. His hand is still on her hip, which is the last place Peeta touched. She jerks away from Gale, rushing down the steps. She needs to go home. She needs to think.

Usually Katniss watches the Games with unseeing eyes. Only snippets pierce her consciousness: a death here, a snide remark there. The commentators give so much away. They show where the sources of water are, they reveal the Careers’ plans—all for the entertainment of the viewers.

She’ll know everything first. So will Peeta. No one will be able to sneak up on him with her watching him every second.

“Katniss?” Gale rushes after her. “Wait, Katniss.” He grabs her arm, forces her to stop. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She had been, at least, for a moment. She’s still not sure what happened when she touched Peeta, and he touched her back, his hands carefully placed on her hips, his chest pressed to hers. The only time she has ever felt something close to that kind of peace is when she would lay back down after a nightmare, Peeta’s quiet voice soothing her until she fell back asleep.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Gale is mercifully silent for the first half of the trip, but as they approach the Seam, he turns to her.

“What’s going on between you and Peeta Mellark?”

Inwardly, Katniss sighs. She is tired, so much so that she’s not sure she’s physically capable of having this conversation. She just wants to fall into bed and sleep. She has to be well rested to help Peeta get through whatever awaits him. The Games are only a few days from now.

“Nothing,” she answers.

“Bullshit.”

Even Gale seems to notice how harsh his response is, so his next words are much softer. 

“You said you weren’t friends with him, but now you’re torn up over his reaping.”

“I’m not torn up,” she says. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“You’ve never said goodbye to anyone before.”

She stops and turns to face him. “If you have something to say Gale, then say it.”

“I only mean that you’ve been watching the reapings your entire life, but you’ve never once been upset about a tribute.”

“I’m always upset,” Katniss says in a harsh whisper. “You think I enjoy seeing innocent children carted off to their deaths?”

“Fine. But you’ve never been this upset.”

“You know what? You’re an asshole, and I can’t deal with you today.” She tries to stomp off, but his long strides keep them evenly paced.

“Have you been seeing each other?” he asks. “Katniss, come on, I need to know. You let me believe there was a chance—”

“No,” she snaps. His words are kindling, and her anger is the fire, crackling beneath her skin. “I never ‘let’ you believe anything. I’ve been completely upfront with you this entire time. I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to be with you!”

Gale falters and then stops. She knows she has been cruel, but she is consumed by her rage, her fear. She keeps walking. 

“But you want to be with Peeta Mellark?” he calls after her.

She doesn’t say another word. She doesn’t even give him a second glance.

*

She spends the afternoon in the woods. She hunts, but she doesn’t go near the lake.

Every hour or so, she says his name.

He never responds.

*

The next day, Katniss wakes to a quiet house. A note on the kitchen table reveals her mother and Prim are in town, helping deliver a baby. Prim leaves a postscript, promising to be back in time for the opening ceremonies.

A quarter loaf of bread remains from the day before. The sight makes her throat ache. She doesn’t bother with toasting or jam. She eats it, cold and hard but delicious. She wishes there was more. It makes her feel closer to him.

She disappears into the woods and lets her mind focus on the task at hand. She shoots two squirrels, three birds. She visits the Hob where she trades and eats lunch.

When she finally arrives home later that evening, her mother and sister are still gone.

She says his name but he doesn’t answer. She focuses as intensely as she can. For a split second, she sees through him: Marjorie dressed in a sleek black outfit. Of course. Every year, it is the same tribute to coal mining. Uninspired. Unimpressive.

She sinks onto the threadbare couch and waits. For Prim to return. For the ceremonies to start. For Peeta to reach out.

Minutes later, she hears her name.

_Katniss, look._

Her vision shimmers. Peeta is looking into a mirror, and his transformation is incredible. The eye that was swollen shut yesterday is now open and unblemished. The burns on his cheeks and hands are gone. Even his right ear, which was swollen and hard, filled with dried blood from a particularly rough wrestling match, looks soft and flexible.

_They’re going to set us on fire,_ he says.

“What?”

_We might not even make it to the Games._

“I don’t understand,” she says, certain there is a joke she is missing.

_Just watch._

“I will be. I don’t have a choice.”

_I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I don’t know if I can do this._

“Keep me with you. I’m your best chance.”

The front door opens. “Katniss?” Prim appears and sits beside her sister. The vision of Peeta disappears.

“How did it go?” Katniss asks.

“It didn’t. Mrs. Mareen is still in labor, but I didn’t want you to watch the ceremony alone.”

“Thank you.” She holds her arm up, and despite being fourteen, too old for childish things, Prim nestles into her side like she used to. Katniss suspects this is more for her comfort than Prim’s.

Katniss switches on the television, and they wait.

“Is Peeta your boyfriend?” Prim asks suddenly.

Katniss stiffens. “What makes you say that?”

“He seemed so concerned when he came over the other night.”

“We’re friends. We’ve gone to school together since we were five.”

“It was more than that,” Prim insists. “And yesterday. You didn’t overheat. You were upset.”

Katniss stares at the projection, says nothing.

“I hear you sometimes. At night. You say his name in your sleep.”

“I do?”

Prim nods against Katniss’s shoulder.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Katniss says. “But he’s a friend. A very good friend.”

“And you’re scared for him.”

“He…” Katniss takes a deep breath. “He’s coming home. He has to.”

Prim grasps her hand and holds it tight. “He will.” 

As soon as the chariots start to make their way into the square, Peeta returns. She feels his apprehension, his discomfort. His fear is a constant, always buzzing in the back of his brain. She doubts he will find relief any time soon.

An older black man with gold eyeliner approaches Peeta and Marjorie. His voice is smooth, kind. And just before their chariot moves, he sets them ablaze.

Katniss gasps aloud. She sits up, almost knocking Prim over in the process.

“What’s wrong?” Prim asks. But then she sees it on the screen, Peeta and Marjorie, engulfed in flames. The sight is amazing, impossible. The citizens of the Capitol jump to their feet with a loud cheer, the sound reaching a deafening pitch.

Both Peeta and Marjorie appear unharmed as they wave at the adoring crowd. Caesar Flickerman can hardly contain himself. He is particularly stuck on Peeta, and the way Peeta’s blonde hair glows orange amidst the flames. It looks as if the fire is inside him, illuminating his skin, his smile.

“Peeta Mellark, the boy on fire!” Caesar announces. “It’s unbelievable.”

Marjorie, somehow, is lost in her flames, a small, unfeeling face. It’s not that she scowls or appears particularly unhappy, but she pales in comparison to the tall, broad-shouldered boy beside her. She will only be remembered as the district partner of the boy on fire.

Peeta seems to sense this, and grabs her hand. They hold their clasped hands up, and the crowd goes crazy. Katniss’s heart thumps painfully against her ribcage.

It doesn’t matter, she reminds herself. If holding Marjorie’s hand makes him more attractive to sponsors, then so be it. Hell, if making out with Marjorie somehow improved his chances, then Katniss would encourage it. She cannot allow jealousy or any other petty feelings to interfere with her goal.

She has to bring Peeta home.

*

The first day of training passes quickly. Peeta lets her stay the entire time. She keeps his spirits up with a running commentary on his competition. The boy from District 1, tall, muscular, and blond, has a permanent sneer on his face. Kai is his name. He will be Peeta’s biggest competition. Katniss can only hope someone else takes him out before Peeta has to face him.

The girl from 2 has sharp blue hair, a pointed chin, and fierce green eyes. She never says her name, so Katniss just calls her Blue. She has deadly accuracy with the ninja stars and throwing knives.

The girl from 4, Mira, is decent with the bow and arrow, enough so that it should be included in the weapons cache. Katniss isn’t sure why she so desperately wants the bow included as Peeta has no clue how to use it. But it feels important. Her fingers tingle when Peeta watches Mira aim and shoot. She makes seven out of ten targets.

Katniss would have hit them all. 

That night, as Peeta sits with Marjorie, Effie, and Haymitch at the dinner table, Katniss prepares for bed.

A knock on the door startles her family. Mrs. Everdeen answers. Katniss fears it will be Gale, ready to apologize or continue their argument. She’s not sure which option she dreads more.

But it’s Mr. Mellark. As soon as Katniss sees him, she remembers her promise to show up at the bakery yesterday morning. She wonders why he waited until now to come and scold her.

“Hi, Katniss,” Mr. Mellark greets. “We missed you yesterday.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Mellark. I completely forgot.”

“Oh, please, don’t worry.” He puts up his hand as if to placate her. “It’s perfectly understandable. The past couple of days have been hard on us all.”

Katniss’s face turns from apologetic to stone. She remembers the tension in that little room of the Justice Building as Peeta’s family said goodbye.

“I’m sure it was terrible for you.” She keeps her voice steady, but there is an accusation underlying her words. Mr. Mellark either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care to comment on it.

“Did you see the opening ceremonies?”

“Of course,” Katniss says. “It’s mandatory.”

“Did you see Peeta? He looked…”

“Incredible,” she fills in.

“They fixed his face,” Mr. Mellark says quietly. “It looks as if nothing happened.”

“But something did happen.”

“I know.” Mr. Mellark’s jaw tightens. “You have the marks on your back to prove it.”

Katniss looks away, suddenly uncomfortable. She’s not sure what Mr. Mellark is insinuating by grouping Peeta’s injury in with hers. He couldn’t possibly know that one indirectly caused the other.

“Will we see you tomorrow morning?” he asks.

She wants to say no. She wants to disappear into the woods and stay with Peeta the entire day. She hates it when he’s gone. Every time they say goodbye, even if it is just for a little while, she feels that it will be permanent, that he won’t let her back in.

“It’ll just be me and you,” Mr. Mellark says as if reading her mind. “You’ll be on the register while I’m in the back. You’ll be alone a lot.”

“Your wife doesn’t work at the bakery?”

“Not too often,” he replies. “So…seven o’clock?”

“Yes.” She almost apologizes again, but in the end decides that this man deserves no apologies, no sympathy. He is the man that lets terrible things happen to Peeta, the man who never tries to save his son.

“Good. Tomorrow then.” Mr. Mellark nods his goodbye and leaves.

Katniss climbs into bed, alone for a few minutes while Prim and Mrs. Everdeen finish preparing for sleep.

“Peeta?”

His presence is instant. It’s amazing how well their connection works, even a couple of thousand miles apart. It is a great comfort to them both. All one must do is say the other’s name, and they’re there. Here.

He’s still at the dining table, but he lets her stay. She’s ready to eavesdrop when he takes a bite of chocolate cake. Katniss catches the taste on her tongue and lets out a small moan of surprise. The richness, the decadence, the taste! She has never in her entire life eaten something so delicious.

“More,” she requests.

Peeta happily obliges. He takes another bite. Another.

_Effie, is there any more hot chocolate?_ he asks.

“Yes, of course, dear.” She snaps her fingers and a red-haired avox appears with a pitcher. The avox pours a brown, creamy liquid into Peeta’s empty cup.

“What about the cake?” Katniss asks.

Peeta smiles. She feels the movement on his face, the easy way his mouth turns upward. She smiles too. She can’t help it.

He grabs a warm, flaky roll from a plate in the center of the table, dips it into the hot chocolate, and takes a bite.

It’s unbelievable. The roll is delicious, but it’s the drink that amazes her. The warmth trails down her throat, her chest, and into her stomach. Despite the heat outside, the past two days have left her feeling icy with fear. The drink warms her almost as much as Peeta’s apparent happiness.

“That was amazing,” Katniss says.

Peeta drains the rest of the cup before taking another bite of cake.

“Thank you,” Katniss whispers, her body warm and content from Peeta’s dessert. Dinner was leftover rabbit stew, and it left her hungry and wanting. Now she feels full and content, even though her stomach is still technically empty.

She falls asleep before Peeta leaves the table. 

She dreams that night of lavish dinners and decadent desserts and Peeta by her side. Safe. Happy.

Hers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading! A HUGE thank you to amelinazenitram for being a fantastic beta. You're amazing.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

Peeta’s hair glowed orange in the light of the fire. It reminded her of his favorite color. On more than one occasion, they had each sat at their respective houses and watched the sunset together, the pinks, purples, and oranges permeating the sky.

The last strands of daylight had faded a couple of hours ago. Most of the district was out celebrating the Harvest Festival in the town square, dancing and laughing with their neighbors. It was the one day a year that hunger and desperation seemed far away. Children played, teenagers flirted and giggled. For one night, they had all the time in the world. For one night, the reaping did not hang over their heads.

Peeta stood with a group of kids from school. A part of Katniss longed to join them, but she had carefully constructed a wall between her and Peeta that kept them from interacting. Hearing his voice aloud was always a jarring experience. It was familiar yet foreign at the same time, like hearing the tune of a favorite song she had long ago forgotten.

Peeta caught her eye across the square and smiled. She ducked her head. She didn’t know why she had come. The Harvest Festival was more of a celebration for the merchants, the ones who could afford to splurge on a lavish dinner. While she and her family had scrounged together a worthwhile meal, they would go back to being hungry tomorrow.

She was from the Seam: hungry and dirty and desperate. She had nothing to celebrate.

It didn’t matter that Peeta would accept her into his circle without question. He had invited her to join him and his friends numerous times.

But she couldn’t. She had her place. He had his. There was no overlap.

Peeta’s conversation began to filter through the buzz of laughter and voices around her. The group was talking about sneaking off with a bottle of white liquor. Katniss could feel Peeta’s reluctance to go along with the plan. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but he feared getting caught. For most of the kids it would mean a couple of weeks of no friends and extra hours in their families’ businesses. For Peeta, it could mean a broken bone.

“You should go,” Katniss whispered. Shadows hid her mostly from view. If anyone saw her talking to herself, they probably weren’t surprised. “I’ll keep an eye on your mother. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go looking for you.”

Peeta glanced over in her direction once more, but he couldn’t find her.

_Let’s do it_ , Peeta said.

Less than twenty minutes later, after procuring alcohol from an older sibling, the group sunk into the dirt behind a dark house. They sat in a circle and passed the bottle around. It smelled like the liquid Katniss’s mother used to clean a wound. It burned a trail down Peeta’s throat, and Katniss nearly gagged at the taste.

“That’s disgusting,” she told him. She was about to say more when Gale caught her eye and waved. She returned the greeting, and he came over.

“Hey, Catnip.”

“Hey,” she said.

“Having a good time?” he asked.

Her gaze swept over the crowd. Mrs. Mellark was still gossiping with Mrs. Cartwright, a haughty look on her face.

“Yeah.”

Peeta took another long sip, but Katniss maintained a straight face. Her head felt a little foggy, but she could sense Peeta was worse off.

Lainey, a slender blonde from their class, inched closer to Peeta as he passed her the bottle. Katniss felt the heat from the girl’s skin as she placed her hand over his.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Gale asked.

When Katniss didn’t immediately answer, he nudged her shoulder.

“What?” Katniss asked. “Oh, yeah. Tomorrow morn—”

When Lainey kissed Peeta, Katniss felt two opposing reactions at the same time. Half of her felt furious, betrayed, while the other wanted to sink into the sensation of soft lips against her own.

Peeta pulled away, eyes wide. Katniss desperately wished she could read his mind. His emotions tangled with hers, and she couldn’t tell the difference between what she felt and what he did. And she needed to know what he was thinking.

Her unasked question was answered when he leaned in again, cupping Lainey’s cheeks. His fingertips disappeared into her hair.

“Katniss?” Gale asked.

She turned toward him, unable to speak. Lainey let out a soft moan, and Katniss acted on instinct. She stood on her tiptoes, and pulled Gale into a kiss.

How odd and intimate, this moment, her first kiss. She did nothing more than press her lips against Gale’s. He was the one to push it further, his tongue dipping into her mouth.

Beneath the scent of liquor, Katniss could smell the soap Peeta used, and flour, a scent he could never wash off. She felt his lips moving, his tongue exploring, and it was her. He was kissing her.

She hummed her approval, lost in the sensation of Peeta’s mouth, his hands moving into her hair. An unfamiliar heat sparked within her chest, setting fire to her insides.

More. She wanted more.

When Peeta pulled away and she opened her eyes, she was alarmed to find Gale staring down at her, his face a mix of confusion and desire.

“Katniss, I—”

“I have to go.”She spun around and ran, ignoring her name being called over and over. Her last image of Peeta’s night was Lainey’s face, her plump lips swollen from his kiss.

She ran and ran, blocking out Peeta’s voice and the memory of his mouth.

How could she have been so stupid? Why had she turned to Gale? She should have been happy for Peeta. He was her best friend, and he had finally gotten his first kiss at the age of fifteen.

Now she had, too.

As she tried to fall asleep an hour later, she faintly heard Peeta calling her name, but she ignored him. That night she dreamt only of him: his face, his hands, the perfect cupid’s bow of his top lip. But he was always at a distance, disappearing into the dark, his hands entwined with Lainey’s.

The next morning, Katniss didn’t show up to hunt. When she saw Gale again three days later, neither brought up the kiss.

*

Katniss reports to the bakery at 7:00 AM.

Mr. Mellark greets her with an easy smile. There is bread in the oven, nearly done baking, and an assortment of pastries waiting to be sold. Usually the display cases are bursting with desserts, but they are emptier than usual this morning.

“Have you ever used a cash register before?” Mr. Mellark asks.

While she has never physically touched one, she has watched Peeta ring up customers a few times. Between attending school and trading goods, she’s decent at math, but she’s pretty sure the machine does the work.

Mr. Mellark gives her a brief demonstration and jots down a quick price list of the bakery’s most popular items.

“If you need help or have any questions, I’m right in the back.”

Katniss surveys the empty bakery and raises an eyebrow. “Have you been working by yourself?” There’s so much baking to be done, both for the morning and afternoon rush. She’s not sure how he manages.

“Uh, it’s usually me and Peeta.” Mr. Mellark scratches the back of his neck. “Rye stepped in the past couple of days, but he has his own job to do.”

Right. Last year, Rye married Millie, the daughter of the town grocer, and he now runs the store. He would have limited down time to help his father.

“Oh. Of course. Your wife doesn’t help?” She doesn’t know why she asks when she already knows the answer.

Mr. Mellark offers her a tight smile. “On occasion.”

He switches the sign in the door from closed to open before disappearing into the back.

After a few minutes of studying the price list, the bell over the door signals the first customer of the day.

Mrs. Cartwright and Delly.

“Good morning, Katniss!” Delly greets her.

“What are you doing here?” Mrs. Cartwright blurts out.

“I’m helping out while Peeta is…away.” Katniss stumbles over the last word. She’s not sure that’s the most appropriate way to describe his situation, but it sounds more promising than saying ‘gone.’

It’s less permanent.

Mrs. Cartwright harrumphs her disapproval. Delly rolls her eyes and orders two loaves of bread and a raspberry danish. Katniss fetches the food quickly enough, but she hesitates when it’s time to ring up the order. Under Mrs. Cartwright’s scrutinizing gaze, the machine no longer appears as simple as it did a few minutes ago.

Katniss stalls by double-checking the price list before hesitantly entering in the numbers. Her finger slips and adds an extra zero, nearly doubling the cost of the order.

She sighs and starts again.

“Honestly, I’m sure Lincoln can find someone a little more capable,” Mrs. Cartwright mutters to her daughter.

Katniss glares down at the register as she recites the total. Calculating the change goes much smoother, and the drawer pops open a few seconds later.

“I hope he’s watching for sticky fingers.” Mrs. Cartwright gives Katniss a knowing look.

Anger makes Katniss’s fists clench at her sides, but she swallows her harsh words. She doesn’t want to scream at a customer so early on her first day.

“I’m sorry, Katniss,” Delly says. “My mother likes to preach manners, but she has no idea how to practice them herself.”

Mrs. Cartwright’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

“Mr. Mellark is lucky to have you helping him while Peeta isn’t here. He’ll appreciate that when he…he comes home.” Delly forces a smile, takes her order, and walks out the door.

Mrs. Cartwright shoots one more glare in Katniss’s direction before following her daughter.

The rest of the morning follows a similar pattern. Every person who comes into the bakery wears a stunned expression when they notice Katniss behind the counter. Most pretend it isn’t a big deal, but there are some like Mrs. Cartwright who are downright hostile.

“Shouldn’t you be in the mines?” Mrs. Shelton asks.

“Where’s Mr. Mellark?” Mr. Thispin asks. “Does he know you’re here?”

And so on.

It’s nearly noon when Peeta’s voice drifts over her, smooth and warm, like honey.

_Hey Katniss, think I can—_ He cuts himself off as his senses take in her surroundings.

As the bakery drifts into his view, the training center appears in hers. Peeta waits in line to practice climbing across the ropes course.

She feels the drastic turn his mood takes, the weight that suddenly settles on his shoulders. She knows he can smell the fresh bread, the frosting on the cupcakes, the cinnamon from the apple pie. There are more scents that she cannot identify, but she knows Peeta is cataloging all of them now, one by one. She doesn’t need to be able to read his mind to know that.

“Peeta, don’t,” she whispers.

_Are you_ , he begins. _Are you…?_

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m at the bakery. You can’t let this upset you. Peeta.”

The line in front of him moves. Blue is behind him, and she shoves him forward into the empty space.

His yearning for home is sharp and terrible, like the hunger pains that used to wake her in the middle of the night. She wants to burst out the bakery door and run to her own little house, wrap her arms around Prim and her mother, and never let go.

“Katniss?”

She whips around to find Mr. Mellark standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Peeta is entirely useless now, his mind no longer in the training center. No, he’s clawing his way across the two thousand miles that separate him from the bakery. He’s trying so hard to get home.

“Do you need a break? You can sit in the back while I cover the front for a little bit.”

“No, that’s—”

_Say yes_.

“Are you sure?” he presses.

“Actually, I would really like that,” she says, even though she knows it’s a terrible idea. The kitchen is Peeta’s place. It’s where he spends the majority of his time. More than school, more than the front counter, more even than his own house.

It’s Peeta’s turn to climb the rope. When he doesn’t move, Blue pushes past him.

“You need to focus,” Katniss whispers as the door shuts behind her.

She walks around the kitchen, running her hands along the countertops. Moments later, Blue jumps down on the other side, and Peeta is the only one left.

Flour coats one of the counters. Katniss uses her fingertips to spell out Peeta’s name. He takes a deep breath and pulls himself up.

She smears his name away and traces the word BRAVE, then STRONG. Peeta’s trek across the ropes appears effortless. His upper body strength is impressive, thanks to years of tossing around hundred pound bags of flour. He is halfway across when Mr. Mellark sticks his head into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I need some help up front.”

Peeta falls to the ground. The careers burst out laughing, and Katniss winces.

“You’re stronger than this, Peeta,” she says. He is dazed and unsteady on his feet. There is a fist around his heart, squeezing, squeezing.

“You’re stronger than all of them,” she says.

He walks toward the knot tying station, too absorbed in his thoughts to notice Kai staring him down. Kai moves past him, and kicks Peeta’s leg out from under him. None of the trainers notice.

Peeta hits the ground with a hiss of pain. It is enough to jolt him out of his reverie.

“Show him how strong you are.” She knows Haymitch advised against showing off, but she cannot stand the arrogance that radiates off that hulk of a boy, a volunteer who thirsts for the blood of the rest of the tributes. She will not allow him to view Peeta as easy prey.

_I can’t_ , Peeta mumbles as he gets to his feet.

“Show them you’re not to be underestimated. Show them you’re a threat,” she orders before returning to the front counter.

Peeta shoots a glare in Kai’s direction, but Kai is already off with the other Careers, laughing over Peeta’s fall.

He approaches the medicine balls, picks up the heaviest one, and heaves it across the room. It slams into the spears, scattering them along the ground.

Peeta’s breathing is unlabored. He’s barely broken a sweat. His gaze holds Kai’s for a long moment before he heads to the knot tying station.

*

Once Mr. Mellark returns to the kitchen and the afternoon rush abates, Katniss focuses on the rest of Peeta’s training. She chimes in at the centers she already has knowledge of. She is especially helpful with identifying plants and instructing Peeta on how to make a snare. She even forces Peeta to try the bow and arrow. He holds it up, draws it back, and the arrow flies, not even close to hitting the target. He tries again while Katniss critiques his stance. She mimics his actions and takes aim at the front window. The string is tighter than she is used to. It feels clumsy in her hands.

“Be careful,” Mr. Mellark says behind her.

She jumps and drops her arms as if to hide what she was doing.

“We just got that window fixed.”

“I’m sorry. I was just…” She trails off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“I get it. You probably have other responsibilities you need to get to today. Tomorrow, same time?”

“Oh!” Katniss says, surprised to be let off before closing. She still has a couple of hours of daylight left. The whole day is not lost. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, Katniss. Before you go…” Mr. Mellark produces a paper bag full of miscellaneous pastries and half a loaf of bread.

“I can’t accept this,” she says.

“You worked hard today. You deserve it.”

“But I’m working to pay you back for the window.”

Mr. Mellark waves his hand. “That needed replacing anyway. You probably did us a favor. I should thank you. Really.” He presses the bag into her hands.

This time, she doesn’t argue.

*

Just like that, the three days of training are over. Peeta receives a score of 8 after his private training session.

Marjorie earns a 4.

Katniss settles in on her family’s threadbare couch to watch the interviews with her mother and Prim. Kai is bloodthirsty, confident. The crowd loves him. Blue acts coy, but anyone can see the danger vibrating beneath her skin.

Few others are memorable. Poor Marjorie is small and soft-spoken. Even Caesar Flickerman has trouble eliciting much of a response from her. Katniss knows that any potential sponsors have immediately forgotten her once she steps off the stage.

Peeta is all smiles in his red and black suit, his blonde hair pushed back, held in place by who knows how much gel. He looks handsome, desirable. Approachable. Kai and a few other tributes may possess good looks, but Peeta is something else entirely.

He jokes with Caesar about smelling like roses, which earns a laugh from the audience. Caesar praises him, asks if he has a girl waiting for him back home.

A sharp pain slices through her at the question. She remembers the kiss he shared with Lainey three years ago, the chaste dates he went on with a couple of other girls from school. He’s never had a girlfriend, but she’s seen the way the girls stare at him.

“There is this one girl that I’ve had a crush on forever…” Peeta blushes and glances down at his lap, as if too embarrassed to continue. “But we’ve had to keep our relationship a secret. Our parents wouldn’t exactly approve.”

Katniss tastes bile in the back of her throat. She has no idea to whom he could be referring. She thought they told each other everything. She’s with him so often, too. How could she have missed a secret girlfriend? Could it be Delly? She was always at his side.

Lainey? No, they barely spoke.

It dawns on her then. It’s Madge. It has to be. Katniss has seen them interact only a handful of times, but Madge was insistent on seeing him before he left. Katniss stayed out of Peeta’s head during his goodbyes, not wanting to intrude on those private moments.

Madge gave him a gold mockingjay pin, an heirloom from her family to use as his district token. Such an expensive gift. Surely, she wouldn’t give it to someone she barely knew.

Maybe she gave him something else. Katniss touches her lips and feels sick all over again.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Peeta. You go out there, and you win this thing, and her parents won’t be able to refuse you.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Peeta smiles out at the audience, but his mouth wilts at the corners, hinting at the sadness underneath. “When I get home, I’m going to ask her to marry me. We want our love to be eternal. Especially now, after everything that’s happened, we don’t want anything or _anyone_ standing in our way.”

His words start off sweet, but they grow sharper as he continues, his confession of love turning into a threat. Against the Careers. The other tributes. Maybe even the Capitol itself.

Somehow, Katniss doesn’t cry.

*

Later that night, Katniss sits out on the back porch, the heat from the day fading into a cool summer breeze. She feels Peeta nearby, stepping out onto the roof of the Tribute Center, still dressed in his red and black suit.

She wants to greet him, but she doesn’t know what to say – not when she feels so betrayed.

_Hey, Katniss_.

She pulls the rubber band out of her hair and begins to undo her braid.

_Are you ignoring me?_ he asks.

If she really wanted to ignore him, she could shut him out. But she can’t. Not now. Not the night before. But still, what can she say?

_Katniss, about the interview…_

“Is it Madge?” she blurts out.

_What?_

“Have you been seeing Madge?” she asks again. “How could you not tell me?”

_No, it’s not Madge. It’s not anyone. How could I possibly have a secret girlfriend without you knowing?_

Katniss shrugs. Her face is arranged in a mask of indifference, but relief floods through her, as refreshing at the nighttime breeze. She knows he can feel it.

_Haymitch told me that we’re just stories to them, and I had to make them remember mine. Make them invested in my ending._

“So there really isn’t anyone?”

_Just you_ , he says quietly.

His words carry an impossible weight, much too heavy for her slender shoulders to carry. They can’t do this. Not tonight. Not when it could all be over so soon.

“It’s been you and me for a long time,” she says.

_Do you remember our first kiss?_

The question startles her. “Our what?”

_That night at the Harvest Festival. When Lainey kissed me, and you kissed Gale._

“Don’t say it like that. You kissed Lainey back. And the second time, _you_ kissed her.”

Peeta chuckles. _Okay. Sorry. I guess you_ do _remember._

“Of course.”

_I kissed Lainey back because it felt like I was kissing you._

It was three years ago, but his words conjure up the heat of the kiss, the strange, unfamiliar sensation that unspooled inside of her.

She remembers wanting more.

Wanting him.

_When I closed my eyes, I felt you. All around me. And then when you kissed Gale...it was like you were kissing me. Does that make sense?_

She wants to say yes. She wants to tell him how she thinks about it all the time. She wants to tell him she regrets the space she forced between them because she foolishly thought she would have time to change her mind. She hadn’t been ready before.

But she was ready now.

Or she would have been, if it weren’t the night before the Games.

“Peeta…”

His name is an answer. He may not be able to read her mind, but he feels the love, the desire, the fear radiating off her.

_I love you, Katniss_.

“Peeta, please. You can’t do this. Not now.”

_Then, when? Tomorrow? Because that’s all I have._

“Don’t say that. You’re coming home. I’m going to bring you home.”

_And then what?_

“What do you mean, and then what? Isn’t that enough? To survive?”

_You and me, I mean. I know you don’t want to get married, and that’s fine. We don’t have to get married. But I want to be with you._ Really _be with you._

“Peeta…”

_I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Not with you in my head._

Katniss’s back goes rigid as a burst of anger flies through her. “So you’re stuck with me. You don’t have a choice.”

_That’s not what I’m saying. You_ know _that’s not what I’m saying._

When she remains silent, he continues.

_How can I be with anyone else when I’m already yours? I’ve been yours since I was five years old, and I first heard you sing the Valley Song at school._

“You remember that?”

_I remember everything about you._

Flickers of memories race through her mind. She always noticed Peeta, especially as she grew older and her dreams of him became more frequent. He was hard to miss, anyway: handsome, charismatic, genuine. He saved her life twice.

Now she was going to save his.

“I can’t lose you,” she says, and it’s as close to an ‘I love you’ as she can get. Even though she cannot put it into words, she agrees with everything he says. He’s hers. She’s his.

Nothing else makes sense.

_I’m scared._

“I know.”

His fear is a living thing clawing at his insides. She carries its twin in her own chest where it tears at her heart.

_I don’t know if I can do this. If I can be someone else._

“A killer?” she asks.

_I just don’t want them to change me. Turn me into something I’m not._

“You won’t,” she promises. “No matter what happens, I’m with you. Okay? I know who you are.”

Several moments of silence pass. Finally, in a quiet voice, Peeta admits, _I don’t want to die_.

“Then don’t.”

*

The bakery is closed. The first shift in the mines is cancelled. The town square is quiet, empty. Everyone huddles around the screens in their homes, waiting for the countdown.

Katniss’s mother watches at a patient’s house. She is on hand, waiting to deliver the woman’s baby.

Prim curls into a ball on the couch.

Katniss lingers in the doorway of the bedroom.

“You have your pin, right? The one Madge gave you?”

Peeta nods as he settles into his seat on the hovercraft. He winces when his tracker is inserted into his arm.

“If you need to talk to me, just tap the pin twice. Okay? I’ll figure out what you need.”

He nods again.

All too soon, the hovercraft deposits the tributes. Peeta meets Portia underground where she finishes dressing him: tan cargo pants, a long sleeve black shirt, boots. It’s nothing impressive or striking. It doesn’t hint at what the arena contains.

Portia wishes him luck before he steps into the tube. His whole body shakes.

“Breathe,” Katniss says from her spot in the doorway. “Breathe. You can do this.”

Haymitch told Peeta to avoid the Cornucopia. Told him it was a bloodbath. Told him to run, find water, and lay low.

Katniss worries what will happen to Peeta if he doesn’t have any supplies or a weapon. Plenty of tributes have escaped the Cornucopia unharmed only to die of hunger, dehydration, or exposure.

They discussed their options last night, but never decided on a plan of action.

The sun is bright, overwhelming after the fluorescent light of the underground room. Peeta blinks and takes a deep breath. Everywhere he looks is green: hills, grass, trees. The Cornucopia sits in a wide open space. Beyond it lays the woods. To the left a cornfield. A speck of red in the distance looks like a farmhouse.

The countdown begins. Tears prick the backs of Katniss’s eyes, but she will not cry. Now isn’t the time.

_10, 9, 8…_

“I think you should run for the Cornucopia.”

_7, 6…_

“You have me watching your back. You need supplies or a weapon. _Something._ ”

_5, 4..._

_If you’re sure._

_3, 2…_

“If I lose sight of you, I’ll tell you immediately.”

_1…_

“Now run.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! A HUGE thank you to amelinazenitram for being an amazing beta. Come say hi on tumblr: andthisisthewonder

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

Lunch was a bit of cheese and a hunk of stale bread. Katniss was still hungry when she left the cafeteria, but it was worth it for the feast she was saving for tonight.

When she sat down and reached inside her desk, she found a small paper bag sitting in front of her notebook. She pulled it out and peeked inside to find two chocolate cupcakes. The first one was decorated with fondant shaped like a sunflower; the second, a primrose.

Katniss cast a glance toward Peeta’s seat in the front of the classroom and found him watching her.

She quickly looked back down at the cupcakes and whispered, “What are these for?”

 _Prim’s birthday_ , he whispered back. _She’s thirteen today, right?_

Katniss couldn’t help the small smile that formed. This wasn’t the first time Peeta had left food for her and her family. Every once in awhile, there would be a pastry or a bit of bread waiting for her. At first, Peeta always made an excuse: he had too much for lunch, he burned a batch, it was getting thrown out anyway. He knew she was proud to a fault, and he never wanted the gifts to feel like pity.

Eventually though, he stopped making excuses. He didn’t need them anymore. Katniss understood that he was a friend, and this was what friends did. They gave each other gifts. They looked out for one another.

They took care of each other.

“She’ll love them,” she said.

 _One them is for you_ , he said. _Don’t go giving yours away._

*

The first person to die is a young girl from District 7 the same age as Prim. She’s small, skinny, blonde. From the front, she could be Prim’s sister. From the back, she could be Prim.

Kai breaks her neck when she reaches for a canvas bag full of food.

_Avoid the Cornucopia. Find water. Lay low._

_Stay alive._

Haymitch’s advice runs through her mind, and she has to squash her panic before it transfers to Peeta. She smothers it as if it is a fire ready to rage out of control.

Peeta veers to the right, toward the woods, and Katniss wants to simultaneously yell at him to turn back and cheer on his decision.

She is desperate for him to get a weapon or a bottle of water, a sleeping bag or can of food, but she refuses to talk him out of whatever plan he has. In the end, he must do what he thinks is best. He’s the one with the target on his back. Not her.

She may be experiencing what he sees and feels, but it’s secondhand. All she has to do is close her eyes and focus, and the danger will vanish.

Suddenly, he changes direction and heads back toward the Cornucopia. He was only off course for a second, but it is enough to make him one of the last to reach the cache of supplies.

Three children are already dead, the field a mess of blood and heat and weapons. Peeta sticks to the outer ring and grabs a backpack.

Without stopping to check what’s inside or try for something better, he turns toward the woods. The cameras capture all angles of the Cornucopia, but Katniss doesn’t see it until it’s almost too late. Delta, the boy from Four, pursues Peeta, with only a few yards separating them. The sounds of their footsteps are swallowed up by the noise of clashing metal and screams.

Instinctively, Katniss cries out, “Peeta, duck!”

And he does, without hesitation. He drops to a crouch and the machete slices the air above his head. Delta spins around clumsily, and Peeta kicks his leg out from under him. When Delta hits the ground, the machete bounces out of his hand, and Peeta grabs it before slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

He can do it. He has precious few seconds, but he can do it: bring the machete down into Delta’s chest. Cut off his head. Slit his throat.

Whatever he wants. For that moment, Peeta has all the power.

Delta throws up his hands as if they are enough to block such a sharp blade.

Katniss watches, her eyes wide. Her right hand clenches into a tight fist. She can feel the hot leather of the machete’s handle.

Peeta hesitates. It sends her back to the day she was whipped, when Peeta held his mother’s wrist. He could have broken it, but he didn’t.

Finally, Peeta turns and runs into the forest. Away from the bloodbath. Away from Delta, who is angry and shaking, already swearing revenge on Peeta for making him look weak.

Peeta runs, and Prim looks over at her sister, her expression a question she doesn’t know how to ask.

Katniss sits down beside her.

“Are you okay?” Prim asks.

“I’m fine.” Katniss’s vision shimmers, and Peeta carries her through the forest, fleeing death and the children who wield it. He is safe for now, but there’s no telling how long that will last.

“You yelled,” Prim says, “and Peeta heard you.”

Katniss remains composed, but on the inside she panics. In the moment, she forgot Prim was so close. In the moment, the only thing that mattered was Peeta’s safety.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You told him to duck, and he did,” Prim insists.

“I just got scared,” Katniss says. “It was a coincidence that he ducked at the same time.”

“If it wasn’t a coincidence, you could tell me,” Prim says slowly. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Even from Mom.”

Katniss stares at her little sister, the truth at the tip of her tongue. Her connection with Peeta has been a secret for so long, she’s not sure she has the words to explain it out loud.

She’s not sure she wants to share it. Even with Prim.

“There’s no secret. It was a coincidence,” Katniss says again. She sweeps her feet up under her and returns her attention to the bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

*

It’s hot. The weather in the arena is similar to the sweltering heat of District 12, thick with the humidity of summer.

Peeta runs, and Katniss wants to tell him he’s far enough away, to stop before he dehydrates, but Prim is still beside her.

Finally, Peeta stops on his own. He rests his hand against a tree, and bends over to catch his breath. His black shirt is plastered to his back with sweat. He sits on a fallen log, carefully sets down the machete, and looks inside the backpack.

A sleeping bag.

Two granola bars.

Matches.

An empty canteen.

A bottle of iodine.

A long sleeve t-shirt.

The last item makes Katniss do a double take. She wonders how cold it will be at night.

Then, she wonders where Peeta will sleep. How will he hide himself? She decides she will watch over him at night. The camera doesn’t have to be on him at all times. If there is even a hint of danger, the focus will return to him.

The problem is she wants to watch over him during the day too. She doesn’t know how or when she’ll sleep or hunt or work at the bakery. Nothing seems as important as her spot on the couch, eyes glued to the projection.

The camera leaves Peeta and returns to the Cornucopia where the Careers take stock of their supplies now that any survivors have scattered. Mira has already used a knife to turn her pants into shorts. They gather the food and group it together in one spot. They sort the weapons, taking turns to try out each one. Despite being from a Career district, Delta is nowhere to be found.

The most curious thing, however, is the oversized chest sitting in the back of the Cornucopia. It’s locked and no amount of hitting or kicking makes it budge. There is no obvious lock for a key or combination, but nonetheless, it will not open. Kai grows frustrated and picks it up, sending it crashing into the neatly stacked food.

“Seriously?” Mira demands. “I am not restacking everything.”

“You smashed the apples, you idiot,” the boy from Two sneers.

“What did you call me?” Kai demands.

There is something in his voice, the tilt of his head, that makes the boy from Two reconsider his words. “I,” he says. “I mean, sorry or whatever.”

Kai’s scowl quickly transform into a grin. His shoulders drop, relax. “No worries man. It’s a tense situation, right?” He laughs.

The boy joins in. Mira takes a step back as if sensing what is coming next.

Suddenly, Kai picks up the knife hanging from his belt and throws it. The boy from Two drops dead, the knife sticking out of his chest.

Katniss and Prim gasp and lean forward. Katniss cannot remember the last time a Career killed a fellow Career so early in the games. The dissolution of their alliance is inevitable, but on the first day? So close to the initial bloodbath?

It’s been years since a Career died on the first day.

Blue, the dead tribute’s district partner, glares at Kai. “Is this not an alliance?” she asks.

She marches over to Kai and stands directly in front of him. She shows no fear, which is maybe why Kai doesn’t immediately snap her neck.

“Are we working together to pick off the rest or not?” she demands.

“We’re working together,” Kai says.

“Good. Now clean up the food.” She stomps off, Mira at her side.

Kai removes the knife and cleans it on the dead boy’s shirt. Then, he drags the body out from the Cornucopia, so the hovercraft can retrieve it.

There are eleven cannon blasts, five Careers, and eight scattered tributes looking for water.

Since Peeta cannot hunt and doesn’t have the means to set up snares, he forages for food. He comes across a patch of strawberries. He picks one and takes a tentative bite. The burst of flavor lingers on Katniss’s tongue, and she smiles.

“Those look delicious,” she says.

Prim agrees.

Peeta comes across another bush. The distant view makes it look like blueberries, but Katniss gets a closer look through Peeta’s eyes. Just as he is about to pick one, she blurts out, “No!”

He snatches his hand away, and Prim looks over at Katniss.

“That’s nightlock. Isn’t it, Prim?” Katniss asks. She knows it is, but at least this way, she can convey information to Peeta without making Prim suspicious.

“You’re right,” Prim says as the commentators confirm it.

“It’s poisonous,” Katniss mumbles.

Peeta wanders further. When he comes across another plant, Katniss confirms aloud that those are blueberries.

“They look so much alike,” she says.

Prim gives her sister a strange look. “I know.”

Peeta makes a meal out of the blueberries, strawberries, and half of a granola bar. Still, his stomach rumbles afterward. He needs protein.

A couple of kids stumble across the stream behind the farmhouse shortly before nightfall. They narrowly avoid running into each other. Katniss is sure the Capitol is disappointed there was no bloodshed.

The Careers make a half-hearted attempt to find tributes. After a short while, they return to the Cornucopia and eat dinner. They have enough food and water to last for days.

When Prim finally leaves the room to help their mother prepare dinner, Katniss tells Peeta about the stream. Despite his thirst, she advises him to wait until morning to get water. It’ll be much too dark to travel otherwise.

He is hungry, dirty, exhausted. Katniss whispers encouragement in his ear. After the Capitol Anthem plays and the dead are projected into the sky, Katniss tells him what happened to the boy from Two.

The commentators speculate on places for the tributes to sleep. They mention thick bushes a short distance from Peeta, so Katniss urges him to find them. He crawls underneath the overgrowth and lays out the sleeping bag. It is so hot, he doesn’t bother unzipping it. He falls asleep almost instantly.

Katniss stays up until she is sure the Careers will not attempt anything. Perhaps they are just as tired. She falls asleep on the couch.

*

The next day, Katniss stays home from the bakery. She asks Prim to tell Mr. Mellark she is sick. Prim returns with the unfortunate message that Katniss _has_ to come in tomorrow, or she risks facing further punishment.

He doesn’t spell it out, but Katniss knows what he means: another turn at the whipping post.

She is certain this is Mrs. Mellark’s doing. While Mr. Mellark is useless at stopping violence, he never directly causes it.

Briefly, she considers allowing herself to be whipped once more. It would give her time to sit and watch. But it’s possible Mrs. Mellark would force her to work while injured. And Katniss worries her injury may make Peeta vulnerable. She thinks of the angry red lines on his back and wonders if it could happen again.

Prim offers to watch the Games with her, but Katniss turns her down.

Shortly after the sun rises, the commentators reveal a second water source: a pond situated in the middle of the cornfield.

She whispers this news to Peeta, and he gives her a slight nod. While getting to the pond may be risky, he’ll be able to spend more time there if no one else knows about it.

Despite his desperation, his carefully picks his way through the woods, slowly backtracking toward the edge of the forest, careful not to take too direct of a route. While his sudden decision to check out the cornfield could be easily explained, it might arouse suspicion.

Finally, after two more hours of walking in the most roundabout route, Peeta reaches the edge of the forest. Straight ahead is the cornfield. To the left is the Cornucopia where half the Careers sit and wait. The other half is out hunting for tributes.

“You have to be quiet,” Katniss reminds him. “Quick and silent.”

The commentators notice Peeta is about to make a mad dash in the wide open space that separates the forest and the cornfield. The Careers aren’t even looking in his direction. Nonetheless, the shot becomes a split screen.

With a last burst of energy, Peeta runs across the short expanse of land and darts into the cornfield. While he isn’t quiet, he is fast, and Mira and Blue never even turn their heads.

Peeta wanders through the tall stalks of corn, trying to disturb as few as possible. He doesn’t want to leave a trail. More than once he stops to crouch down and take a deep breath. Katniss’s mouth feels dry, dirty. His dizziness becomes her own.

Finally, Peeta emerges from the corn and nearly stumbles directly into the pond. He laughs with relief and falls to the ground.

“Wait!” Katniss says. “Don’t forget to purify it!”

Peeta shoves his hands into the pond and splashes water across his face before pulling the empty canteen out of the backpack. He fills the canteen and pours in a few drops of iodine.

“It’ll take an hour,” she says. “But I’ll keep watch.”

Peeta nods, almost imperceptibly, before removing his shirt. Katniss looks away as he wades into the pond. This isn’t the first time she’s seen him shirtless – not by a long shot – but she’s good at ignoring him when he showers or gets dressed. She’s had only the briefest of glimpses.

She lets herself look now before he dives all the way in. The Gamemakers must take notice too because the shot lingers on his bare chest and broad shoulders before he crouches beneath the water.

Instead of feeling refreshed as Peeta clearly does, she feels hot, uncomfortable as she watches him stand back up. She studies his back, watches his muscles move as he stretches his arms above his head.

Peeta takes a couple more steps before abruptly stopping. Katniss wonders why he doesn’t dive in. Maybe he’s too weak to swim?

Then, with a stab of guilt, she remembers he cannot swim. Almost no one in the district can.

Her guilt quickly transforms into anger. She trembles with it. The Capitol cheated her out of her afternoon with Peeta. She was finally ready to face him, to touch him, but they took him from her.

Why did she have to be so afraid? What was she hiding from? A boy that loved her? That had always looked out for her?

She thinks of the last and only time she touched Peeta, the desperate hug she gave him before she was dragged away. She thinks of the calm that fell over her, the completeness she felt. She longs to feel it again.

When the hour is up, he gulps half of the water down before pausing to take a breath. He finishes the rest, refills the canteen, and returns to the pond.

When he is up to his waist, he stands perfectly still, waiting for the fish he scared away to return. He plunges his machete into the water, but comes up empty-handed. He does this twice more but catches nothing.

“That’s never going to work,” Katniss says.

But Peeta continues to try. Katniss stomach rumbles with twin hunger pains. She hasn’t left the couch to hunt or eat either.

Finally, Peeta gives up.

Kai and his district partner return to the Cornucopia. They eat and regroup before Mira and Blue decide to explore the barn.

They’ll find the stream. Then, none of the tributes will be safe.

Except Peeta.

While the group looks the other way, Peeta returns to the forest, looking for berries to eat. His dinner is a repeat of last night’s.

“Katniss?”

She turns her head and finds her mother standing nearby, a worried look on her face.

“Have you been sitting there all day?” Mrs. Everdeen asks.

“No,” Katniss lies.

“Sweetheart, you can’t watch him every second. It doesn’t do either of you any good.”

“I’m not. I was out earlier. Really.”

Mrs. Everdeen takes a seat on the couch. “I know you’re worried for him. I know you feel something bad might happen if you’re not watching. But you have to trust his instincts. There’s nothing else you can do.”

Katniss nods, but her eyes return to the projection.

“Did you go to the bakery today?” Mrs. Everdeen asks.

“I wasn’t feeling well.”

Her mother sighs, and Katniss hurries to say, “But I’m feeling better now. I’m definitely going tomorrow.”

“You know what will happen if you don’t,” Mrs. Everdeen says softly. She slides closer to her daughter and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

While Katniss isn’t used to such affection from her mother, at least not in a long while, she allows it. The weight on her shoulders feels good, almost like it’s keeping her anchored to the ground.

As night falls, Peeta makes his way back to the bush he slept beneath the night before. He isn’t near any of the other tributes, and Katniss feels something like hope.

Peeta falls asleep on top of the sleeping bag, the long sleeve shirt crumpled up into a crude pillow beneath his head.

Mrs. Everdeen forces Katniss into bed shortly after.

Overnight, the leaves change color and fall to the ground.

*

The air is cooler, crisper when Peeta awakes. He slips the long sleeve shirt on over his head. His footsteps are loud on top of the bed of leaves as he picks more berries.

Katniss dresses quietly in the bedroom as Prim and her mother sleep. She longs for the couch and the projection of the Games, but she must report to the bakery.

Mr. Mellark greets her with a smile and an offering of a raspberry Danish, but she turns him down with a curt, “No, thank you.”

He flips the sign on the door and disappears into the back while Katniss stands behind the counter.

“Are you okay?” she whispers. She knows he cannot answer, but talking to him makes her feel better.

Her vision shimmers and reveals the changed world of the arena. Red and orange leaves cling to branches while other trees are bare. She shivers from the briskness of the wind.

“It’s colder,” she says. “It feels like fall.”

She hates that he cannot answer her. She longs for his voice and the comfort it always provides. The bell above the door rings, and she tries to ignore the way her skin prickles with tension.

The morning goes by agonizingly slow, but Katniss checks in with Peeta as often as she can. He’s hungry. She can feel it. She finally eats the raspberry Danish Mr. Mellark left out for her, and hopes it makes Peeta feel better. He takes a bite of the second granola bar and drinks most of his canteen.

By the early afternoon, after sitting around unsure of what to do or where to go, Peeta decides to return to the pond for more water.

“I can’t see what the Careers are doing,” Katniss reminds him. “Wait until I’m done working.”

Peeta hesitantly agrees. He’s restless and cold, certain he needs to be doing more to get home but unsure what. He doesn’t want to hunt for other tributes. The longer he can avoid them, the better.

Eventually, though, he will come face to face with them.

Katniss loses track of Peeta during the afternoon rush. The majority of the customers do not question her presence, although they still regard her with suspicion. She pretends not to notice.

Katniss is in the middle of ringing up an order for Mrs. Carter when a sudden flash of pain in her left arm steals her breath away. She drops the woman’s money in her haste to hold her injured arm. She looks down and sees the ripped black sleeve, the deep cut, and the blood that seeps out.

Peeta.

Without a word, she runs into the kitchen, past a startled Mr. Mellark, and up the stairs to their home above.

Luckily, Mrs. Mellark isn’t there. Katniss struggles to turn on the projector, as the Mellarks own a newer model. She cries out when pain explodes once more in her left arm. Her vision is a mess of steel and blood. She catches sight of dark hair and green eyes, and she realizes: Delta. He’s found Peeta.

Finally, she gets the projector on. Peeta and Delta are center stage, fighting not too far from where Peeta has been sleeping. Katniss touches her arm, studies the thin red line that has appeared exactly where Peeta sports a deep cut. Hers is dotted with drops of blood.

Peeta and Delta stare each other down. Peeta, at least, still has his machete. Katniss wants to cry she is so scared and angry. If only she had been watching, she could have warned Peeta that Delta was tracking him. Maybe he could have hidden or waited to ambush Delta himself.

Suddenly, Delta charges Peeta, and Katniss realizes there is nothing she can do. No advice to give, or words of encouragement to offer. There is only Peeta, his weapon, and the hope that his drive to come home is stronger than Delta’s need for revenge.

Peeta dodges Delta, but the sword catches his hand and he drops the machete. Delta picks it up and grins.

“You were lucky the first time, Twelve. Not this time.”

A branch breaks nearby, and Delta turns his head. It is the distraction Peeta needs. He crouches down and launches himself at Delta, knocking Delta to the ground. Peeta gets one knee over Delta’s right arm and is about to pin down his left when he sees Delta’s face.

“Oh my god,” Katniss says.

Delta’s mouth opens and closes. His eyelids flutter. Blood drips out of his nose. Peeta leans over and gasps when he realizes that Delta has smashed his head on a sizable rock, hidden beneath the bed of leaves.

Peeta stands and stares down at the boy from Four. His guilt is as overwhelming and as oppressive as the heat was the day before. Katniss kneels in front of the projection, her hand over her mouth.

“Peeta,” she whispers.

He doesn’t move.

“Peeta,” she repeats. “You have to finish it.”

He shakes his head.

“He’s…he’s suffering.”

“I know,” Peeta says aloud, the words echoing in her head.

His voice is a comfort and a curse. She will always remember the sound of his acceptance, his words laced with a pain she can’t understand.

Peeta picks up the sword, which slides easily out of Delta’s grasp.

“You can do this,” Katniss says. “You have to.”

She closes her eyes and wraps her left arm around her body. She reaches out with her right, as if to touch his arm, to help him guide his weapon. She uses all of her focus, all of her energy, and she feels it, feels him, all around her. With her eyes closed, his reality is the only thing she can see, the only one she knows.

“We’ll do it together,” she whispers.

Her arm moves as his does, and they bring the sword down quickly into Delta’s chest. Blood gurgles out of his mouth. He kicks his feet. Then, he goes still.

Peeta looks around in a daze. They both spot the backpack at the same time. It must be Delta’s. Peeta unzips the bag and finds it’s full of food. He swings it over his shoulder.

Then, he runs.

Past his backpack and sleeping bag waiting beneath the overgrowth, toward the edge of the forest. He flies into the cornfield, straight for the pond. Neither of them feel the pain in his arm or hand, the bruises on his knees. There is only the guilt, the knowledge that they have taken a life.

Katniss remembers her first kill when she was eight years old. She hit a squirrel with her arrow, almost accidentally since her aim was so poor. It was a tiny thing, gray and scraggly, but the guilt had been enormous. Did it have a family? Would they miss him?

When she expressed her fears to her father, he didn’t laugh or dismiss them. He knelt down in front of her and assured her that animals didn’t have the capacity to feel such emotions. Humans were the only ones who suffered from the burden of sadness, longing, guilt.

Suddenly, Mr. Mellark bursts into the room. Katniss looks over her shoulder, eyes filled with tears. Neither one says anything for a second.

Meanwhile, Peeta cleans his hands, the sword. He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t say a word.

“What happened?” Mr. Mellark asks. “You just ran through the kitchen. I went to help the customers. I don’t know why. I was so afraid he—he—”

“He made his first kill,” Katniss says. She looks back at the projection, at the guilt and regret that Peeta cannot wash off. “The boy from Four.”

Katniss startles when Mr. Mellark lays a hand over her shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says, and it’s not quite a lie. “He’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Of course.” He clears his throat and sits down beside Katniss. “You know, if I could speak to him right now, I would tell him everything was alright. That he did what he had to do.”

Peeta pauses in his cleaning, leans back on his haunches.

“What else would you say?” Katniss asks, looking up at Mr. Mellark.

“That I love him. That nothing he does will change that. Ever. He has to do whatever it takes to survive. He is in an impossible situation. But it doesn’t change who he is deep down.”

Peeta lies back and covers his face.

“I wish he could hear you,” Katniss says.

Mr. Mellark stares at the projection. “Me too.”

*

The next day, the Careers find the girl from District Nine at the stream and the boy from Seven in the barn. Ten tributes remain, including Marjorie.

Peeta returns to the pond to refill his canteen and wash the strips of his long sleeve shirt he has used to wrap the wounds on his arm and hand. When he returns to his new campsite, at least a quarter mile away from where Delta died, he remains there for the rest of the day. He sits and stares into space, his back against a tree.

Once night falls, he burrows into his sleeping bag, cold and hungry. He zips the bag up over his face and buries his face in the fabric.

_Katniss?_

“I’ll be right back,” she says to her mother and sister who are just settling in for the daily mandatory viewing of the Games. “I just need some air.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Mrs. Everdeen says. “Don’t take too long.”

Katniss makes her way to the back steps and takes a seat. “I’m here,” she says.

_Thank you. For all the help. All the warnings. Everything._

“I told you. You’re coming home. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

_About yesterday…_

“Don’t,” she says. “This isn’t the time or place to talk about it.”

_I just feel so…so…_

“I know,” she whispers. “I feel it too.”

And she does. There is no pride in his mercy kill of Delta, but there is relief. Relief that it was Delta and not him, relief that there is one less tribute to worry about.

It’s an ugly feeling. She knows it’ll never quite go away. It’s already rooted inside him, growing with each breath he takes.

“You’re still you,” she says. “You won’t change. I won’t allow it.”

_You won’t?_

Mrs. Everdeen calls Katniss’s name, and she sighs.

“Can we talk tomorrow night?” she asks. “Like this again?”

_Yes. I miss you._

“I miss you too,” she says, and it’s a surprise how easily the words slip out of her mouth. No hesitation. No second-guessing. She misses his laughter and his scent and his steady presence. She misses the knowledge that he would always be there, no matter what.

She took him for granted. But she won’t do it again.

“Goodnight, Peeta,” she says softly before turning to go inside.

_Goodnight._

She stays up as long as she can, but eventually her mother forces her to bed. Once again, the Careers remain in the Cornucopia after the sun sets. The temperature drops, so they build a fire to keep warm.

*

Shortly before sunrise, it begins to snow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry it took so long for an update. Real life got in the way. A HUGE thank you to amelinazenitram for being the most wonderful beta. And in case you forgot who made my GORGEOUS banner - thank you to loving-mellark. 
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr: andthisisthewonder. I post drabbles and previews of my WIPs on there.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

The snow came quickly and unexpectedly. Nearly half a foot covered the district by the time school was dismissed.

The walk worried Katniss. While her shoes were mostly intact, the soles of Prim’s boots were worn down. Both of their jackets were thin, with the elbows patched up. They did little to protect Katniss and Prim from the gusts of wind and frigid cold.

It was one thing to have a difficult walk home only to be met with plentiful blankets and a fire roaring in the fireplace. But all that awaited them were a few threadbare blankets and an empty hearth.

When Katniss went to her cubby to collect her belongings, she found an oversized wool coat hanging on the hook. It appeared thick and warm, even if it obviously wasn’t new. More than likely, it had been handed down from person to person.

Brother to brother.

She recognized it almost immediately as Peeta’s.

“I can’t take this,” she mumbled to herself, even as her fingers fiddled with the soft sleeves.

Peeta didn’t answer. She looked around, but he wasn’t nearby. When she sought him out mentally, a terrible chill flooded through her. He was already outside in the storm, headed home in nothing but a long sleeved Henley.

She grabbed his coat and rushed outside.

“Peeta!”

She stopped almost as soon as she had begun. Not only was he already too far away, but the sudden idea of Peeta returning, speaking to her, terrified her.

“You can’t do this,” she whispered.

_I already did._

The snow pelted her cheeks, the flimsy sleeves of her sweater. She stared down at the gift in her hands, overcome with guilt and gratitude.

“I’ll return it. I promise,” she said.

A few students gave her a wide berth as they headed out into the storm, puzzled by the simple Seam girl talking to herself.

 _Keep it,_ he said. _Please._

Katniss found Prim still inside the school, dutifully waiting for her. Katniss slipped Peeta’s coat on over Prim’s flimsy one.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s Gale’s.” Something inside Katniss twisted at the lie. She felt an echo of the same emotion in Peeta before she severed the connection. She knew Peeta hadn’t given her his coat out of want for attention or gratitude, but it was still hard to hear your sacrifice credited to someone else.

She desperately wanted to tell Prim that it was Peeta’s coat. That he was so generous, so kind that he’d rather face the storm in a single layer than let the Everdeen girls freeze.

Katniss forced a smile. “He wants you to borrow it. For the storm.”

Prim gushed over Gale’s generosity, and Katniss’s guilt deepened. It wasn’t that her friend wouldn’t commit such a selfless act. It was only that he _couldn’t_. Katniss wasn’t sure he even had a coat at this point.

The walk home was freezing. What should have only taken ten minutes turned into a thirty-minute ordeal. The wind bit their cheeks, whipped their hair into their eyes. But Prim was warm beneath her two coats and winter hat, and Katniss managed as she always did.

But the chapped lips, the red, windblown cheeks, the shivering that didn’t stop for the whole night was nothing compared to the following school day when Peeta showed up to school with a black eye and short sleeves.

Katniss left him his coat on his hook.

He didn’t take it.

*

When Katniss slips out of bed, away from the warmth of her sister, the air meets her with an icy embrace. She shivers as the sweat that dampens her nightgown dries cold against her skin.

She reaches out to Peeta, hoping the unnatural chill in the air isn’t bothering him, but finds him still asleep. She can sense he’s dreaming about something happy and warm, something to do with the bakery.

With home.

She dresses quickly, slipping a long sleeve shirt on over her usual tank top. She doubts the frost in the air will last long. An unusually chilly walk awaits her, but by mid-morning, the sun will warm the district.

Katniss is halfway to the bakery when Peeta wakes up and the cold hits her, stopping her in her tracks. It slices through her extra layer, dragging icy talons along her skin. It’s so cold it _hurts._

She sees it then through Peeta’s eyes: snow.

At least half an inch covers the arena where yesterday there were dry, brown leaves. Peeta wipes the flakes from his face and lies back down. He burrows deeper into his sleeping bag.

“Oh no,” she whispers.

He has no coat, no gloves. Even the long sleeved shirt he found in the backpack is useless now, cut up and wrapped around the wound on his arm.

Yanking her sleeves over her hands, she runs the rest of the way to town. She bursts into the back door of the bakery, hands trembling, teeth chattering, and stands in front of the oven.

Heat radiates off the door, and she holds her hands in front of it as it were a live fire.

“It’s snowing,” Mr. Mellark announces.

Katniss jumps in surprise and spins around to find Mr. Mellark in the doorway leading to the front. She tries to control her trembling, but it’s just _so cold_.

“What?” she asks.

“In the arena,” Mr. Mellark clarifies. “It started snowing just before sunrise. Last I checked, Peeta was still sleeping. All that overgrowth has kept the snow off him.”

Mr. Mellark’s brow furrows and he moves closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fi-ii-ne,” Katniss stutters through chattering teeth. “Just woke up a little cold.”

He frowns and gestures at her back. “Is…is everything okay? It’s not infected it, is it? Your mother told me the symptoms—”

Katniss shakes her head, but then thinks better of it. Maybe if she pleads infection, he’ll let her go home. Maybe if she hides herself underneath enough layers, Peeta will feel its warmth. She doesn’t know how superficial the feelings are. Does covering herself mean Peeta is covered too? Or is it only an illusion? Can he feel warm and still die of hypothermia?

Her stomach twists, and her mouth goes dry. The sudden shudder that runs through her has nothing to do with the cold.

“I don’t know,” she says, her throat tight. Her words answer Mr. Mellark’s question, but they echo her thoughts too. Because she doesn’t. After four years of this connection, she has no idea how it works, how deep it runs.

There have to be coats and hats and gloves somewhere in that arena. There’s no way the Gamemakers would go to all this trouble just to let the remaining tributes die in the cold on the fifth day. What a boring ending that would be. She just needs to give Peeta time until he can figure something out.

“Can I take a look?”

“No,” Katniss blurts out. “It…it hurts.” Her back hasn’t hurt in a couple of days, but she figures pain must be a sign of infection.

“Why don’t you go upstairs?” Mr. Mellark asks. “You can lie on the couch with some blankets. I’ll call Rye and see if he can help today.”

The relief that burst within her feels as bright as starlight. She already feels warmer. “Really?” she asks.

“Yeah. Maybe you can watch the Games? If you don’t mind? I’d like someone to have an eye on him.”

“Yes, yes of course.” Katniss almost runs by him, but she remembers at the last moment she is supposed to be in pain.

Mr. Mellark follows her upstairs and gets her settled on the couch. Carefully, he drapes a blanket over her shoulders before he encourages her to lie down on her side. Then he covers her in two more blankets. It’s enough to stave off the chill and stop her hands from shaking.

He turns on the projection just in time for a close-up view of the Careers building a fire. They’re as cold as Peeta, as the rest of the tributes. Katniss is surprised they haven’t received any winter clothes from sponsors.

Mr. Mellark lingers for another moment, perhaps waiting for a shot of his son. Unfortunately, Peeta hasn’t moved from his spot beneath the overgrowth. He is still wrapped in his sleeping bag, but his shivering has stopped. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are red, but he seems to be in less danger than he was before.

Katniss touches her own cheeks. They’re like ice.

As soon as Mr. Mellark leaves, Katniss twists inside her burrow of blankets, so her face is covered.

“Peeta,” she says. “Do you feel any warmer?”

 _Yes_ , he whispers, his mouth covered by the sleeping bag.

“I don’t know how long this will help. Or if it will even protect you. But it’s something for now.”

He surreptitiously nods his head, disguising it as wiping his nose against the edge of his sleeping bag.

Time passes, but neither Katniss nor Peeta move. She doesn’t know the warning signs of hypothermia, but he _seems_ all right. His shaking has subsided completely, and he no longer feels cold.

Unfortunately, Katniss worries that these signs that seem so promising might actually be signs of his body shutting down. She wishes Prim or her mother were here to tell her what to look for.

He needs a distraction. Something to keep his mind off the cold and how hopeless the situation feels.

“Did I ever tell you the story about how I got Prim’s goat?” she asks.

_No._

She tells him how, just a few months, before their connection became firmly established, she and Gale had brought down a doe. She tells him how neither of them had ever had so much money in their lives after they sold it to the butcher.

She tells him about the hurt goat that Rooba was supposed to buy, but how, in the end, she walked off. How Rooba had helped her, reminding Katniss that while she often felt unliked and unwelcome, she did have friends in the district...or, at the very least, allies.

She tells him about the pink ribbon she purchased to tie around the goat’s neck, and how Prim’s eyes lit up before she burst into tearful laughter.

Peeta listens intently as he rubs his arms beneath the sleeping bag.

 _You’re a good sister_ , he says.

Katniss thinks about the cupcakes Peeta left for Prim on Prim’s thirteenth birthday, the cake he made for her fourteenth. She remembers the wool coat he hung on her cubby hook when that freak blizzard hit during school.

She remembers the bread he threw her that day in the rain, back when they didn’t know each other. He took a beating from his mother to save her life, and now she would do anything to save his.

“What is this?” a shrill voice suddenly demands.

Katniss regretfully peeks out from beneath the blankets, knowing not only has she essentially exposed part of Peeta’s face to the elements, but she also must now face the owner of that voice.

Mrs. Mellark.

She stands over the couch, hands on her hips, clicking her tongue. “Is this work ethic popular in the Seam?” she demands. “Work half-heartedly one day, take the next off. Work half-heartedly another day, then laze around your boss’s home?”

Katniss’s hands ball into fists beneath the blankets. She has to keep her cool. She cannot risk getting kicked out. She worries what would happen to Peeta if she attempted to walk home now. How much could his condition change in the ten minutes it took to reach the Seam?

“My back might be infected,” Katniss says.

“Excuses, excuses. You’re just looking to get out of the work you caused for yourself.” Mrs. Mellark takes a step forward so she now towers over Katniss. “You committed an act of senseless vandalism, and now you have—”

Katniss sits up so fast, her back screams in pain. “Senseless act?” she challenges. “I think we both know why I broke that window.”

Mrs. Mellark’s face doesn’t change. “I think you shouldn’t meddle in affairs that aren’t your business.”

“Peeta _is_ my business,” Katniss says. “And if you think I’ll allow you to touch him again—”

“He’s my son, and I will punish him as I see fit!” Mrs. Mellark snaps.

Katniss feels Peeta shudder at his mother’s raised voice, and something inside her snaps. She cannot allow Peeta to lose even an ounce of courage right now. If only she could send his mother away, dismiss her like she was nothing.

An idea forms in Katniss’s mind. She asks, “Have you ever seen the squirrels I trade your husband?”

Mrs. Mellark sniffs. “I cannot help who my husband deigns to trade with.”

“But you’ve seen them,” Katniss clarifies. “You’ve probably even prepared them for dinner.” Her eyes flash, and something in Mrs. Mellark wilts, just a little. “Have you ever noticed I never miss? I always get them right through the eye.”

“Are you threatening me?” While Mrs. Mellark sounds strong and unmoved, there is a change in her face, a question mark.

“I never miss,” Katniss repeats, her voice low, deadly. “It would be cruel to hit them anywhere else. Their death would be slow, painful. It’d be agonizing.”

“How _dare you_! You really think you frighten me? How do you think the town would react? You think they’d try and protect you then?”

“I think you forget the hierarchy around here,” Katniss says, rising to her feet. The blankets slip off her and pool onto the couch. “You and I both might not be liked much around here, but at least I serve a purpose. I feed this district. What do you do?”

The whole of Mrs. Mellark’s face transforms. She tries to say something, but her words sputter out. Katniss takes a step forward, invading the woman’s personal space.

“If you think I wouldn’t risk another turn at the whipping post for Peeta, you haven’t been paying attention.” She takes another step forward, forcing Mrs. Mellark backward. “If you think I wouldn’t risk a hanging to keep him safe…then you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Mrs. Mellark stares at her, her mouth a thin line. She crosses her arms at her chest, as if annoyed, but Katniss can read the fear in her eyes.

Satisfied, Katniss slips back beneath the blankets and lies down on the couch. “Please, Mrs. Mellark,” she says in as pathetic a voice she can muster. “I’m not feeling well.”

The woman stomps down the stairs of the apartment. A moment later, Katniss hears raised voices coming from the kitchen but she can’t discern what is being said.

 _What did you just do?_ Peeta asks.

In her fury, Katniss forgot Peeta was even listening. She blushes a crimson red. With a cursory glance at the projection, which is still focused on the Careers keeping warm, Katniss hides her face.

“You’re going to win these Games,” Katniss says. “And when you come home, you’re never going to worry about that woman again.”

_Katniss…_

“I’ll shoot her in the throat if she ever lays a hand on you again,” Katniss says. “I won’t let—”

“Katniss?”

She pulls the blanket down to find Mr. Mellark standing in front of her, a heap of logs in his arms. She wonders how much he heard of what she said and hopes he’ll chalk it up to the crazy Seam girl talking to herself once again. After four years of talking to Peeta, she’s developed a bit of a reputation. She’s sure Mr. Mellark is aware.

“Would you like a fire?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“That would be…” Crazy. Insane. It must be nearly ninety degrees outside. The shirt beneath Mr. Mellark’s apron is soaked through with sweat. While Katniss is more relaxed, she still feels the chill, sunk deep into her bones. “Great,” she finishes. “Thank you.”

Mr. Mellark arranges the fire. Every few moments, he stops, straightens up as if he wants to turn and ask a question before returning to the task at hand. When a fire is finally roaring, he stands and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Can he hear you?” Mr. Mellark finally asks.

“What?”

“Peeta. Can you – do you two – can he hear you?”

Katniss stares at him in wonder but says nothing.

“I heard him once,” Mr. Mellark says. “Late one night, a couple of years ago. He was in the pantry talking to himself. I heard him say your name. At first I thought he was sleepwalking, but the longer I stood outside the door, I…”

Katniss sits up, careful to keep the blanket wrapped around her.

“He goes to the pantry a lot in the middle of the night. When I asked him about it, he simply said he couldn’t sleep,” Mr. Mellark continues. “He’s always baking desserts for a friend. He never gives a name. The day he lost his coat…I saw you walking by in the blizzard, your sister wearing it.”

“He’s just…we’re friends,” Katniss says. “We don’t advertise it. There are…some people who wouldn’t be happy with our friendship.”

“Your reaction yesterday, as if you already knew he had been hurt,” Mr. Mellark says. “Your inability to keep warm today. Please, Katniss, if he really can hear you, tell me.”

 _Tell him,_ Peeta suddenly says. He is no longer rubbing his arms, although she cannot tell if it is due to the fire or the distraction of this conversation.

_He can help us if he knows._

Of course, Mr. Mellark had already helped tremendously, even without being certain. Before she can answer though, she hears the telltale beeping that signifies:

“Parachutes,” she blurts out.

She turns toward the projection, and sure enough, a parachute for each Career tribute floats down toward them. But it’s not just them. Every tribute receives one, Peeta included. Unfortunately, they are too small to contain anything bigger than a pair of gloves.

Mr. Mellark sits beside Katniss and they watch as each tribute untwists the parachute and pulls out a note.

_Tributes –_

_There are several winter coats, pairs of gloves, winter boots, scarves, and hats hidden in three chests around the arena. One chest is in the Cornucopia. Another is in the barn. And a third is located in the cornfield. At this moment, they are all locked. In fifteen minutes, all three chests will open and remain unlocked for exactly two hours._

_Good luck finding what you need._

_And may the odds be ever in your favor._

Katniss remembers the locked chest from the first day. The one that made Kai so angry, he ended up killing the boy from Two. Why would the Gamemakers give up the locations of the chests so easily? Now all the tributes know where to look. There will be no trouble locating each trunk and—

Of course. Everyone knows where each trunk is. Everyone knows where everyone else is headed. All the Careers need to do is spread out among the three chests, wait for them to unlock, grab the gear they need, and pick off whichever tributes attempt to sneak by them.

And if a tribute decides to avoid the chests, he or she will die from hypothermia. Surely, the temperatures will drop even further tonight as the snow picks up.

Death from the cold, or death from the Careers.

It’s no choice at all.

“The cornfield,” Katniss says. “He knows it the best. The Careers will leave someone to guard the Cornucopia, and he’s never been to the barn. His only hope is to find the chest in the cornfield first.”

Peeta shakes off the sleeping bag and takes a tentative step out from his hiding spot. The camera’s focus falls on him, as this is the first he’s moved all morning. Snow pelts him as he moves out into the open. He sticks out his tongue and catches a few flakes. He goes cross-eyed as he watches them melt. Laughter erupts out of him as he takes a few more steps.

He’s not cold.

Between the blankets draped over Katniss and the fire in the hearth, he barely feels the snow. His eyes water from the wind, and his cheeks turn a bit red, but there is no other indication that he is out in blizzard conditions wearing only a t-shirt.

“It’s working, isn’t it,” Mr. Mellark says. “The fire. The blankets. He feels what you feel.”

Katniss turns to look at Mr. Mellark. She studies him quietly, seeing Peeta in the slope of his nose, the strong line of his jaw.

After a long moment, she finally says, “Yes.”

He looks at her then, eyes wide, bright, hopeful. “And he can hear you?”

“He can hear you too,” she confesses. “Whatever I hear, see, feel, he can hear, see, feel.”

“That’s…” He shakes his head, unable to come up with a word big and wondrous enough to describe their connection. “Peeta?”

Onscreen, Peeta freezes and turns his head, as if he has heard something nearby. He waits, listens.

“Peeta,” Mr. Mellark says again. Then, he shakes his head and stands. “I’m getting you some lunch. Both of you. Do you think that’ll help?”

Katniss thinks of the meager meals of strawberries and blueberries Peeta has been dining on. Even the miracle of beef jerky and other canned foods found in Delta’s backpack isn’t enough to keep him strong. She’s been trying to eat well for him, but she hasn’t had time to hunt.

Or the patience.

Leaving the projection for too long, especially after working away from it all day, seems too dangerous.

“It might,” Katniss said. “It won’t hurt.”

Mr. Mellark nods furiously. “Right. Yes. Of course. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Mr. Mellark is gone, Katniss returns her attention to the projector. “You need to find the chest in the cornfield. If you can find it before the Careers and grab something quickly, you’ll be set.”

Peeta rolls up his sleeping bag, shoves it into one of the backpacks, and hides it beneath the overgrowth. He heads straight for the edge of the forest.

Meanwhile, the Careers are already discussing who is going where. The girl from District 1 – Katniss finally learns her name is Avalee – will remain behind at the Cornucopia. Mira and Kai will head for the barn, while Kai volunteers Blue to explore the cornfield. All of them seem wary to enter the cornfield, as none of them have explored it yet. The tall stalks make it hard to see and maneuver, but one of them has to risk it.

Mira argues that she should get to stay behind at the Cornucopia, especially since she was foolish enough to cut her pants into shorts, but Kai overrules her. Blue doesn’t dare risk getting in his face again, so she agrees with him. Avalee quickly falls in line, and Mira is outnumbered.

Katniss relays this information to Peeta, who doesn’t stop running. He streaks across the break between the forest and cornfield unnoticed. He snaps a stalk and attempts to brush away his footsteps as he leaves them, but this only slows him down. Instead, he tries a more roundabout route, moving in zigzags that intersect one another as he moves deeper into the field.

His only advantage is that the snow and wind don’t affect him. Every once in a while, a strong gust sends a shiver down Katniss’s spine, but the warmth always returns. She’s almost comfortable, despite the snowflakes she can feel falling on Peeta’s skin.

Peeta roams the cornfield for nearly ten minutes before he finally finds the chest. By this point, Blue is only a little ways behind him, shivering and cursing the cold. Since she entered the field from a different direction, she has yet to come across Peeta’s footprints, but Katniss worries it’s only a matter of time.

The fifteen minutes pass, but the chests remain locked. With a sinking feeling, Katniss realizes that the note lied. While she doesn’t doubt the chests will open, she worries it’ll be later rather than sooner. The Gamemakers just wanted everyone lined up, ready to face off.

Another five minutes pass, and Blue inches closer.

The camera suddenly focuses on the barn. The boy from District 8 – tall, thin, with sandy blonde hair – kneels in front of the chest, desperately trying to yank it open. In his focus, he fails to hear Kai creeping up behind him. Kai’s backup in the form of Mira isn’t even needed.

Kai quickly snaps the boy’s neck.

By the time the cameras refocus on Peeta, Blue is already upon him.

“Peeta!” Katniss yells out his name seconds before Blue releases a ninja star. Peeta spins around and jumps out of the way, but he isn’t quick enough. The star grazes the side of his face.

She throws three more in rapid succession, and Peeta dodges all but the last one, which lodges itself in his leg.

The pain isn’t as bad as the wound from Delta’s sword, but it will impede Peeta’s performance as he tries to fight back.

Out of stars, Blue pulls two throwing knives. Peeta feints right then left, but she follows him like a mirror image. Finally, he charges forward with his sword, managing to slice her right arm.

Either the cut isn’t deep or Blue is too numb from the cold, but either way, she doesn’t react. Peeta charges her again, when the commentators suddenly announce Kai is no longer with Mira in the barn.

“Stop!” Katniss cries out. “Kai’s coming. You can’t fight them both. You need to get out of there.”

Sure enough, the screen splits into two, with Peeta and Blue’s face-off on one side and Kai’s running form on the second. He’s fast and destructive, tearing a path through the forest to get to the cornfield.

Peeta swings his sword, charges forward, but this time when Blue dodges him, he keeps running.

Katniss immediately notices he’s running deeper into the cornfield rather than back toward the forest, but he can’t possibly know where Kai is coming from.

“What are you doing?” Katniss asks. “You’ll get lost in there!”

Blue quickly recovers and takes off after him.

“Come on, lover boy, where you going?” Blue calls. “Are you scared?”

Peeta runs and runs, and finally, Katniss realizes what he’s doing. He’s running toward the pond. At his speed though, the pond will creep up on him, and he’ll be halfway across it before he even realizes.

“Warn me,” Peeta mumbles on screen.

“You’re close,” Katniss responds.

Peeta slows his gait just enough so Blue can completely catch up with him. She’s only steps behind when Katniss shouts, “Now!”

Peeta cuts a hard right, but Blue keeps going, surprise keeping her from making such a sharp turn. She hits the ice, slips forward a few feet before falling down hard on her elbows and back.

The ice breaks beneath her weight.

She disappears under the surface. Peeta hears the splash, but he keeps moving.

“Keep going in that direction,” Katniss says. “You’ll miss Kai entirely.”

So Peeta does. He runs, and he doesn’t look back.

Miraculously, Blue is able to pull herself out of the water, but she is soaked. Already ice is forming in her hair, along her clothes, as she crawls onto shore. Teeth chattering, she tries to orient herself and head in the direction of the chest. When she gets there, she finds it open but empty. A couple of feet away, Kai stands wearing a coat, a hat, and a pair of leather gloves. He holds the rest of the clothes in his hands.

“I need a towel. A coat. Something to get me dry,” Blue stutters as she takes a step toward him on shaking legs.

Kai punches her without dropping a single item of clothing.

“This is no longer an alliance,” he says before stomping on her right leg, breaking it.

Her cry of anguish fills the arena. As Kai walks away from her, she quickly pats her sides, but finds her knives no longer there. They sit at the bottom of the pond where already the ice is reforming, closing over the hole her body made.

“Kai, please!” she shouts. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Kai throws a hat over his shoulder and sends her a dangerous smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Eventually, the shivering subsides. Her whispered words slur together, and her breathing slows.

When the hovercraft comes for her body, her lips are as blue as her hair.

*

Peeta still doesn’t have any winter gear, but everyone else does. While Mira grabbed a coat, scarf, hat, and gloves from the chest in the barn, she ran away before emptying it completely when the tributes from District 3 tried to ambush her. Just before the trunks shut, Marjorie snuck into the barn and claimed a coat for herself.

The male from District 11 collects nothing, but keeps from freezing by burrowing into his sleeping bag and wearing a sweater he found in his backpack on the first day. He’s not in the clear, but at least he has something.

Peeta eats snow once he reaches his hiding place, and it is enough to stave off dehydration. He snacks on beef jerky and canned peaches, while Katniss feasts on a lunch and dinner unlike anything she’s had before.

Mr. Mellark serves her venison and vegetables and hunks of fresh bread for lunch. For dinner, he feeds her lamb stew, cheese buns, and another serving of vegetables. By the evening, she is stuffed from her meals, and she can tell that even Peeta feels the effects. He is warm, content, and sleepy. He burrows into his sleeping bag, and turns his head into the inside, so he is able to speak to Katniss.

Before he can, however, Mr. Mellark leads a concerned-looking Gale up the stairs.

“Your mother sent me,” Gale says once Mr. Mellark leaves. “After Mr. Mellark sent Rye to tell her you would be staying over. He mentioned you might have an infection?”

“It’s fine,” Katniss replies from beneath the blankets. “Mr. Mellark had the town doctor look at me. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? It’s like one hundred degrees in this room,” he says. “It’s the middle of July, and you need a fire?”

“I’m just a little cold.”

“A little?” He takes a seat at the bottom of the couch. She sits up to give him enough room. “Can I see your back?”

“I told you—”

“Your mother wants me to check.”

“Since when do you know anything about healing?” Katniss asks with a smile. The joke falls flat. Gale gets frustrated instead.

He grabs her arm and yanks her forward.

“Hold on,” she snaps. “This is not how you move a patient.”

He mumbles an apology, and she twists beneath the blankets, so she is facing away from him. Gingerly, he lifts her shirt. His fingertips are warm. He traces the area around the welts, and she closes her eyes.

It’s easy, so easy, to pretend Peeta is the one touching her back, exploring the delicate skin beneath her shirt. He’s all around her, beside her, burrowed beneath the blankets with her. It feels good, so impossibly good, she doesn’t know how to tell Gale to stop.

Her shirt falls back into place, but Gale leans closer, sweeping her dark hair over one shoulder. He kisses the back of her neck, and she sighs into him, relief flooding through her body. It feels like a second chance. Katniss tilts her head to the side, reaching backward for him, and the kiss is warm, tender, and much too brief because it isn’t Peeta, and it isn’t right, and suddenly she’s sick to her stomach.

“Stop,” she says.

Distantly, she feels the hopelessness, the disappointment spreading through Peeta as he closes his eyes and makes wish after wish after wish.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t.”

“What’s going on in your head?” Gale asks. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Katniss faces forward and waits for Gale to move away. But Peeta is still there, still waiting, still wishing, so she says, “Yes.”

“Are you going to marry him?” Gale asks.

Katniss has no answer to this, nothing to give either of them, so she remains quiet.

“Katniss, please. You owe me that much.”

She mentally reviews everything they have been through together. They have hunted, they have protected one another, they have kept each other and their families safe and alive.

So what does she owe him?

Everything, she thinks. But not this.

Finally, Gale stands and walks toward the apartment door.

“I love you,” he says quietly from several feet away. “I still want to wait for you. But if you’ve decided…”

She looks up at him from the couch, and from somewhere, she finds the strength to say, “I’ve decided.”

He nods once, and pushes the door open.

It shuts quietly behind him.

*

Mr. Mellark lets Katniss sleep in Peeta’s bed that night. While there’s no fireplace in the boys’ bedroom, she hopes the familiarity will bring him comfort.

Mr. Mellark gives Katniss a pair of Peeta’s sweatpants and wrestling sweatshirt to wear before piling every blanket he can find on top of her. As soon as she is left alone, she buries her face in Peeta’s pillow and inhales.

Cologne. Soap. Cinnamon. Sugar. It smells clean, it smells like the bakery, it smells like him.

_Katniss._

“You’re awake,” she says. “You should sleep.”

 _You shouldn’t shut him out,_ Peeta says. _I still might not come home._

The idea of living in a world where Peeta doesn’t make it home is so painful, she wonders if the wounds on her back have reopened.

_I mean it. If I don’t make it home, you can still have Gale._

“But I don’t want Gale,” she whispers. Tears spring to her eyes, and it hits her how desperately she needs Peeta to return to her.

_But if I don’t—_

“Peeta, you have to understand, it’s not an either or. It’s you. It’s just you.” She sighs and wiggles deeper into her fort of blankets. “I’m sorry, so sorry about earlier. For a moment, it felt like you were home, and I—”

 _I know_ , he says.

“It won’t happen again.”

_Okay._

“You have to believe me. It won’t.”

_I believe you. I always believe you._

“Then you should believe me when I tell you that you’re coming home.”

_I know you believe that, but—_

“You’re close. So close.”

She slips her hand beneath the blankets and lays it over her chest.

“Now you,” she says.

He mirrors her movements, and soon she feels his heartbeat echoing her own.

“It’s just you,” she says again. “I don’t know if I want to get married. I know I don’t want kids. Not in a world like this. But I know I want you. Is that enough? Can that be enough?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

 _Always_ , he says.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the amazing amelinazenitram for betaing. Thanks to everyone who has left me kudos and comments or sent me messages on tumblr. I'm so sorry for the wait. Thanks for sticking with me.

Beads of sweat trickle down the nape of her neck, disappearing beneath her tank top. The lake winks at her beneath the sun, but instead of diving in, Katniss scans the clearing. She’s not sure how long she’s been waiting.

It feels like it’s been forever since she last saw him.

Finally, his heavy tread announces his arrival. She looks over her shoulder, prepared to berate him, but stops when he comes into view. His gait is hesitant, uneven. As he approaches, she notices the dark circles beneath his eyes, a stark contrast to his pale skin.

She wipes the sweat from her upper lip and waits. He stops a couple of feet away, mindful of her reluctance to be so close to him.

Her fingers twist the hem of her top. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know,” Peeta admits. “Is the water cold?”

“It’ll feel good. It’ll cool us off.”

He shakes his head. “I’m already cold.”

Katniss frowns. It has to be nearly one hundred degrees out. “I thought you wanted to learn how to swim.” 

A lazy breeze blows through the meadow, and he shivers.

“I do.” He gives her a lopsided grin, but it looks forced. “I also just wanted to spend some time with you.”

She smiles, suddenly shy. Truthfully, she wants the exact same thing. She’s tired of the distance she’s forced between them.

“Why don’t you go ahead in,” he suggests. “Show me the proper technique. I’ll watch.”

A boldness she didn’t know she possessed buzzes under her skin. She unbuttons her shorts and they slip down her legs with minimal effort.

“Katniss?”

Her gaze lingers on her bare feet as she tries to ignore the flush that covers her entire body. She forces herself to meet his bright blue eyes.

“I thought you wanted to watch.”

Before she can talk herself out of it, she pulls off her tank top, leaving herself clad in only a bra and underwear.

His lips part. He studies her. Devours her. She grows dizzy underneath the sun. 

He takes a step closer, and she wraps her arms around her chest. 

“I’m going in,” she says.

“Wait.” In a few strides, he closes the distance between them. He pulls her braid over her shoulder, so it hangs down over her breasts. His knuckles brush against her collarbone, and she sucks in a breath.

She wants to run. She wants him to touch her again.

“Don’t go yet,” he says.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please,” he says. “I miss you.”

His words are strange. It’s been less than an hour since the reaping ended. Their last. They should be celebrating. But she feels it too, the tension in the air, the terrible ache in her chest. 

“I’m right here. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here.”

His fingertips graze the skin just beneath her bra. The ache intensifies, and for a moment, she feels very far away. 

“Me too,” he says.

He grasps her hips and pulls her closer. She startles at the contact, the coldness of his hands a surprise. At first it feels good, a relief in this awful heat. But he’s so cold. Too cold. It starts to burn.

“You’re freezing.” She touches his cheek, and it’s like ice. 

His hand moves to the side of her face, and her eyes flutter shut. She leans in.

“Katniss, I want…” The tip of his nose grazes hers, sending a delicious jolt through her.

_I want_ , she thinks. _I want, I want._

Apprehension builds in the sliver of space between them. She tries to ignore it, but something is wrong. The certainty is a Capitol train hurtling toward them.

A branch breaks somewhere behind her, and she jumps out of his grasp. She whips around, searching the distance for a flicker of white.

“We have to go,” she says.

“Katniss.” His voice is small. Far away.

“Someone’s here, we have to--” She turns to face him, but he’s gone. The ache in her chest splits her heart open.

“Peeta?” Sweat slips down her forehead, stinging her eyes. She calls for him again and again, no longer caring that a peacekeeper may be approaching. Her voice is hoarse, her throat aches. She opens her mouth to yell again.

With a gasp, she sits up in bed, his name on her lips. The heat of the room is suffocating. She tears the sweatshirt off and kicks away the blankets before she remembers where she is.

Peeta’s room. She’s supposed to keep him warm.

But sweat has soaked through her tank top. Her hair is plastered to the back of her neck. She closes her eyes and waits for the cold to wash over her. She is desperate for it.

“Peeta?” she whispers, searching for him. But he’s gone. Panic crawls up her throat, a live, wounded animal.

The bedroom door slams into the wall. Mrs. Mellark stomps in and yanks Katniss out of bed.

“You’re done here!” Mrs. Mellark yells. “I don’t want to see you at the bakery ever again. You’re not welcome here.”

Katniss trembles as she stares at the older woman, her fear for Peeta so great that she cannot think straight, let alone defend herself.

“Are you deaf, girl? Get out!” 

Mrs. Mellark yanks her toward the door. Katniss trips over the length of her borrowed sweatpants and falls to the hardwood floor. Pain shoots up her elbows and knees. She scrambles to her feet as Mrs. Mellark grabs the back of her tank, dragging her to the stairs. Her back explodes with pain, and she nearly falls again.

Mrs. Mellark pushes her through the kitchen, past a flustered Mr. Mellark and out the back door. Spit lands at her bare feet a second before the door slams shut.

Katniss stares up at the bakery, a place she knows as well as her own home. The smells and sounds are as familiar as her heartbeat. But it’s all slipping away.

He’s gone. _He’s dead._

She runs home. She bursts through the front door, flying past her sister and mother, and kneels in front of the projection of the Games. Blood seeps out of cuts on her right foot, turning the bottom of the sweatpants a dark, ugly red, but she doesn’t notice. The camera sweeps over the Careers and the other remaining tributes before it finally falls on Peeta. He sits with the sleeping bag wrapped around his shoulders, his eyes closed, his fist clenched.

Relief is the morphling her mother gives to patients. It turns her soft and blissful. But it lasts for only a few seconds. She can’t hear him. She can’t _feel_ him.

Peeta’s hand opens, revealing the Mockingjay pin. His thumb glides across the arrow in the bird’s beak before he taps the pin. Once. Twice. He closes his eyes.

She remembers lingering in the doorway of her bedroom just six days ago as Peeta boarded the hovercraft. She told him: _If you need to talk to me, just tap the pin twice. I’ll figure out what you need._

She sits back against the couch, one hand on her ankle, the other on her head. The pain from her foot sweeps through her, but it is dull, muffled. It is nothing compared to the gaping wound inside her head, the hole where he’s been cut out.

Somewhere, a thousand miles away, Peeta buries his face in his hands, dropping the pin into the snow.

*

The commentators speculate over Peeta’s condition. He’s somehow survived the night despite his lack of layers, but today he is clearly freezing. He trembles beneath the sleeping bag.

Then he’s gone, the camera moving on to someone else.

For four years, he’s always been with her, a constant presence, disappearing only when she forced him to. But he always returned. All she needed to do was say his name.

She never understood their connection. It seemed useless to try. It was extraordinary. Unexplainable. A small part of her feared that if she thought too much about it, it would disappear, and she’d be alone. Again.

The rules seemed simple enough. She had access to Peeta’s senses just as he had access to hers. But over the past couple of weeks, their connection felt different. More powerful. She kept him full when he had little to eat. She kept him warm as snow fell and the temperature dropped.

Was it too much? Did they push it too far? She pictures a black line of thread running from her body to his. She imagines it stretching, snapping, gone.

Katniss hisses in pain as Prim finishes wrapping her foot.

“All done,” Prim says. “You’re going to need to stay off that for a while.”

Katniss nods absently. “Thanks, Little Duck.”

At the age of fourteen, Prim has outgrown the nickname, but she doesn’t complain. She sits beside her sister and lays her head on Katniss’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“What happened at the bakery?”

“I don’t have to work there anymore,” Katniss says. “My debt is paid.”

This answers nothing, not her state of undress, her wild eyes, her missing shoes. But Prim nods as if she understands.

They watch the Games in silence. Katniss longs for the camera to return to Peeta. While she knows the focus will be on him if he is in any danger, she still needs to see him. With her head so empty and quiet, his absence feels permanent.

“How long will it take for the cold to kill him?” 

Prim’s head snaps to the right, surprise etched on her face. “I’m not sure. There are a lot of factors--”

“Just tell me. I know you know.”

Prim sighs. “I’m surprised he’s still...okay. Yesterday, he was walking around in a t-shirt. He looks worse today.”

Katniss nods, eyes never leaving the projection. “What are the signs?”

“Shaking, dizziness, nausea. He might get confused or clumsy. If the shivering stops…” She trails off.

Katniss conjures up the image of Blue laying in the snow, pale and still. Peeta replaces Blue in her mind, and she has to hold her breath to keep a sob from escaping her lips.

She squeezes her eyes shut and waits and waits and waits. She needs something. Anything. She wants to hear him say her name.

Thirty minutes after the camera cut away from Peeta, it returns. He’s at the edge of the forest, trembling violently, as he spies on the Cornucopia.

“Oh no,” Katniss whispers.

“Do you think he’s…?”

“Yes. If he doesn’t get something to wear, he’ll die. And he doesn’t know where the other tributes are. The careers’ stash is his only option.”

Light snow falls in the arena. Peeta strains his neck, looking for movement. Katniss has a clear view. Kai and Mira left ten minutes ago to scour the forest for tributes. Avalee sits in front of a bonfire, snug and warm in her coat and gloves. Now is Peeta’s chance. His only chance.

Peeta doesn’t appear hopeful. His shoulders shake, making it difficult to keep a grip on his sword. He takes a deep breath. His right foot slides back.

He runs.

The snow muffles the sound of his footfalls, and he makes it to the back of the Cornucopia without attracting attention. He’s in plain sight of the forest now. He looks around, and when he doesn’t see anyone, he slips around the side.

He sinks to his knees, wincing as the snow seeps into his pants. He crawls forward and peeks inside. As soon as he sees Avalee, he ducks. She sits directly behind the fire and looks out through the mouth of the Cornucopia. In this position, no one can sneak up behind her.

Peeta settles into a crouch, his back pressed against the icy cold of the Cornucopia. He plunges the sword into the ground, using it to steady himself.

Suddenly, the screen splits in two, Peeta in one half, and Kai and Mira in the other. The snowfall in the forest is much heavier than the one in the clearing. The wind whips Mira’s hair in her face, snow into her eyes.

“No,” Katniss whispers, leaning forward in her seat. The gamemakers have made the storm worse on purpose. They want to force a confrontation.

“Let’s go back,” Mira shouts, ducking her head to avoid another burst of cold air. “We can hunt tomorrow when it’s warmer.”

Kai stares into the distance for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. Tomorrow’s spring, right?”

They turn back toward the Cornucopia. They walk slowly at first, but as the storm picks up, they begin to run.

“He has to do it now,” Katniss says, her fingers curling into the couch cushion. She has no idea how far away Kai and Mira are, but they’re making good time. Kai is several yards ahead of Mira and shows no sign of slowing down.

The split screen disappears as Peeta shoots to his feet. He wobbles before steadying himself. Then, he runs into the Cornucopia. He’s halfway to Avalee before she reacts. She jumps to her feet and holds a machete out in front of her. 

Peeta swings, but she deflects it easily. Peeta is much stronger than her, but the cold has sapped his energy, turned him slow and clumsy. She charges him, and it takes all his focus to defend himself. Their blades smash together, and they both strain against the other’s strength. Peeta kicks out in an attempt to trip her, but she dodges him. The momentum causes him to slip and hit the ground. In the next second she’s on him.

Peeta grabs the machete blade with both hands before it can pierce his chest. Blood seeps out of his palms, but the pain doesn’t seem to affect him. He’s too numb. He slams the blade upward, and the force sends Avalee flying to the ground.

By the time Peeta gets to his feet, she’s standing, too.

The back of his shirt and pants are soaked through. He continues to shiver despite his proximity to the fire. He edges toward it, but keeps his eyes on her. She still has her weapon. His sword is just out of reach.

This time when she charges him, he’s ready. He twists to the left, grabs her arm, and pushes. She falls into the flames.

Katniss gasps as she watches Avalee scream. Avalee quickly rolls out of the fire and across the ground until the flames that engulf her are extinguished. She groans as Peeta rushes into the back of the Cornucopia, where the extra winter clothes sit in a heap. With his eyes trained on Avalee, he rips off his wet t-shirt and pulls on a sweater and coat, streaking both layers with blood. He pockets a hat and pair of gloves.

Avalee shakily gets to her feet. Tears stream down her face as she watches Peeta, her burnt hands shaking in front of her. He inches toward the exit, his hands held up as if in surrender.

For a moment, Katniss believes it will be okay. Avalee will let Peeta leave without further violence. She is too tired, in too much pain, to fight. But these are the Careers. They fight or they die. That’s been their only option since birth.

Avalee screams, the sound raw, primal. She races toward him. His back is already pressed against the Cornucopia. There is nowhere for him to go, nowhere for her to push him. 

She wraps her damaged hands around his throat and squeezes. He grabs her wrists, wincing as the pain from his palms finally registers. He yanks her free before spinning her around, her hands trapped between her back and his stomach.

“Go ahead,” she says. “Kill me.”

Peeta remains silent, his head resting against the wall as he takes several deep breaths.

“I was never going to beat him anyway.” She tilts her head toward Peeta. “And neither will you.”

Peeta throws her forward and grabs his sword. As soon as she turns around, he plunges it into her stomach.

Katniss covers her mouth, nausea twisting through her gut. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be a killer. But what choice did he have? He has to come home.

He has to.

She tries to send him reassurance, the promise that this changes nothing, not her feelings, not who he is, but of course it doesn’t reach him. 

Peeta pulls the sword out, and the blood comes quickly. Avalee stumbles backward, arms wrapped around her stomach. Then, she falls.

Tears sting Peeta’s eyes, but he quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand. He steps out into the cold winter air, the bloodied sword hanging limp at his side.

He rounds the corner, prepared to rush back into the cover of the forest, when he sees Kai.

Katniss can tell the moment Kai spots him. He changes course and quickens his pace. Peeta runs in the direction of the farmhouse. He must have seen the spear in Kai’s hand because he moves in a zigzag pattern.

Kai stops, aims, and throws the spear. It glances off Peeta’s shoulder. Kai snarls before breaking into a run. Peeta may have a head start, but he is too slow. Kai slams into him, and they both hit the ground, Peeta’s sword flying out of his hand. Kai turns him over and kneels on his arms. Kai’s fists fly, connecting with every inch of Peeta’s upper body. 

Peeta arches upward, the heels of his shoes slipping as he tries to find purchase in the snow. Kai flies forward and Peeta’s arms come free. Peeta drops back down to the ground, and elbows Kai in the neck. 

Kai tries to regain control of Peeta’s hands, but Peeta is already twisting his legs and torso in an attempt to get on his stomach. When he succeeds, he digs his hands into the snow and pushes backward. Kai falls off him.

Breathing heavily, Peeta stands and lifts his fists. Kai does the same.

Katniss sinks onto the floor, her nails digging into her palms.

Kai inches forward. Closer. Closer. As soon as he is within range, Peeta swings, catching him in the jaw. Peeta swings again, but Kai catches his wrist and wrenches it to the side.

Then Peeta’s eyes widen, his mouth twists into a gasp, and Katniss knows. She can’t see it, can’t feel it, but she _knows._

The camera angle changes. Kai clenches the handle of a knife, its blade buried in Peeta’s side. Just before Peeta sinks to his knees, Kai rips the knife out of him.

_No. No, no, no._ Katniss grabs her side, but there is only phantom pain. She cannot feel his fear, his grief, the life ebbing out of him.

Despair fills her instead, crushing her lungs. She cannot draw a breath. The world has caved in over her head, and there is nothing left of her.

_I was going to kiss you_ , she thinks. _I was going to_ love _you._

_You were mine._

Peeta is on all fours. His blood blooms across the snow. Kai grabs a fistful of Peeta’s hair and yanks his head up. Kai lands a devastating punch, and Peeta crumples.

Kai leans down over Peeta, his smile wide and ugly.

“Sorry, Twelve,” Kai says. “You know the rules of the Game.”

“Yeah.” Peeta copies Kai’s smile, his teeth red. “I know.”

Peeta grabs the second knife hanging from Kai’s belt and slices upward. Kai twists his head, but the blade catches him, cutting from the bridge of his nose to his eyebrow.

Kai covers his eye and yells. Blood seeps between his fingers. By the time Mira arrives at his side, Peeta is gone.

*

Katniss rips through the drawers, the cupboards, the trunk at the end of her mother’s bed. Nothing. Not one thing of value in her little home. As soon as anything of worth comes through the door, it disappears again, traded for something they need.

“Can I help?” Prim asks from the doorway. Mrs. Everdeen stands behind her, hands on her shoulders.

“You should be watching him,” Katniss says as she digs through the closet.

The last she saw of Peeta he was beneath the overgrowth, pressing a balled up shirt to his wound. The two remaining Careers hadn’t pursued him, despite the drops of blood littering the forest like breadcrumbs. Kai was angry, but he was also in pain. Katniss knows a parachute will float down any minute to repair his face.

She needs to do the same for Peeta. She needs money. Something to sell. Something to trade. 

Finally, she comes across the only thing of value she owns: her father’s hunting jacket. She holds it against her body, the worn leather soft and comforting.

“You should sell it,” Mrs. Everdeen says.

Katniss glances up in surprise. “It’s dad’s.”

“He’d want you to,” Mrs. Everdeen continues. “He’d want you to save Peeta. No matter what.”

A few tears drip onto the coat sleeve. Katniss hastily wipes them away.

“I’m going to the Hob,” she says. “Come get me if anything changes.”

Prim grabs her sister’s arm. “It’ll be okay.”

“Just get me. I don’t want him to die alone.”

*

She’s in no condition to hunt. Between her aching back and her cut foot, she’d never make it out far enough. And she’d never be able to focus long enough to bring anything down. 

The coat will never fetch enough to make a difference. But she has to try.

As she limps toward the Hob, she reaches out over and over again. She pictures the arena and his bloodstained fingertips. She conjures up the sound of his labored breathing. But they’re just reproductions. Memories.

Katniss passes Sae and Ripper and the other stands until she reaches the seamstress, Retta. She lays the coat down and looks up at the older woman.

“How much for the coat?” Katniss asks.

“It’s summer,” Retta answers.

“It’ll be cold eventually. Besides you can….” She swallows, her throat dry. “You can cut it up. Make something else. How much?”

Retta sighs as if Katniss is placing a heavy burden on her shoulders. She pulls out a few coins and drops them into Katniss’s outstretched hand.

“I need more,” Katniss says.

“Not worth more,” Retta replies cooly.

“It’s worth at least double this.”

Retta plants her hands on her hips. “I don’t know where you got the idea--”

“Don’t rip her off.”

Katniss looks over her shoulder to find Sae standing behind her.

“You know it’s worth more, Retta. Now c’mon, pay up,” Sae continues.

Retta rolls her eyes, but she produces another couple of coins. She glares at Katniss. “Happy now?” 

Katniss says nothing. She’s too busy recounting the meager pile in her hand.

“Wasn’t that your daddy’s coat?” Sae asks.

“Yes,” Katniss replies without looking up. She begins to walk away, but Sae grabs her arm.

“What’s the money for?” Sae asks. 

Katniss hesitates. She’s no good at lying. “It’s for Peeta Mellark. He needs help.”

“What are you going to do? Buy him a scrap of cloth?”

Katniss clenches her first around the money. “I have to try. I have to do something.”

“Wait right here,” Sae says. She disappears behind her stand. A moment later, she reappears with two coins. She opens Katniss’s hand and drops them into her palm.

“I can’t,” Katniss says. “I can’t accept this.”

“You’re the girl, aren’t you? The one he mentioned in the interview.”

Katniss nods.

“You worry about paying me back later. Okay? Go take care of your boy.”

“Thank you.” A blush warms Katniss’s cheek. She is flush with embarrassment, but there’s something else too.

Hope.

As Katniss heads toward the exit, Rooba calls her name and beckons her over. “Bring me some rabbit soon, hmm?” she says as she produces three coins.

Katniss stares at the woman in shock. Someone taps Katniss on the shoulder, and she turns. Three more vendors, including Ripper, stand behind her, hands outstretched.

Katniss’s heart swells. “Thank you. Thank you.” 

She accepts the money with shining eyes. She always thought she was disliked in District 12. She’s too quiet, too prickly. Unapproachable. She believed the vendors only tolerated her because of her father. But she recognizes the concern etched on their faces, and she is grateful. So grateful.

“I’ll pay you all back. I promise.”

“You can take it from his winnings,” Ripper says. “When he comes home.”

*

Katniss hobbles up the path to Madge’s house. She wears her mother’s shoes, and they’re a half size too small. By the time she knocks on the door, she’s sure she’s bled through the cloth wrapped around her foot.

Madge opens the door, her face grim. “Hi, Katniss. I’m so sorry about--”

Katniss thrusts out her hands. “Can your father use this to help Peeta?”

Madge stares down at the pile of coins. “You want to send him a parachute?”

Katniss nods. “I know it’s not much. But I thought if we contributed something, others might be willing. He needs something. Medicine, a bandage, a needle and a thread. _Something_.”

“My dad isn’t allowed to sponsor tributes. It’s a conflict of interest. But he knows people in the Capitol. I’m sure he can find someone willing.”

“Thank you, Madge.” Katniss isn’t sure how many times she’s said those words today, but she no longer cares. Her pride is a small, useless thing. She has to save him.

Madge pulls Katniss into a hug. After a moment of hesitation, Katniss hugs her back.

“He’s going to be okay,” Madge says. “We’ll find a sponsor.”

*

It’s mid-afternoon. Katniss sits on the couch, her foot redressed by her sister. Not much is happening in the Games. Most tributes are bunkered down, trying to stay warm. Every once in a while, the camera returns to Peeta. He’s managed to staunch the bleeding, but he fades in and out of consciousness, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. He’s shivering again.

Kai received medicine to ward off infection and help with the pain, but his left eye is useless now. Rage is an understatement. Luckily, the snow has covered Peeta’s trail of blood.

Prim sits down beside Katniss and hands her a bowl of soup.

“Not hungry,” Katniss mumbles.

“You have to eat.” Prim offers it again. 

Katniss swallows a spoonful. Immediately, it threatens to rush back up her throat. She sets it on the floor.

Before Prim can say a word, there is a knock at the front door. Prim answers it. While Katniss doesn’t take her eyes off the Games, she recognizes the sound of Gale’s footsteps. She can already tell he’s agitated. 

“Can I talk to you?” Gale asks, standing in front of the couch. He looks over his shoulder at the Games before meeting her gaze. “Outside?”

Katniss is reluctant to leave, even for a few minutes, but there’s no way Gale will go without speaking with her first. He’s too stubborn. She stands and hobbles toward the door. Despite his anger, Gale wraps an arm around her waist to support her.

“Prim, if anything changes--”

“I’ll get you.”

It’s grown hotter, the air heavy and sticky. Katniss pulls her braid off the back of her neck and lays it over her shoulder. Her fingers linger there, remembering Peeta brushing against her collarbone.

Was that just a dream? Or was it really him, talking to her one last time before disappearing forever?

“What happened to your foot?” Gale asks.

“I cut it.”

“During your trip to the Hob? I heard you begged for money.”

“That’s not what happened,” she snaps.

“How could you do that, Katniss? Those people are our neighbors. Our friends. They already have so little.”

“They gave it to me,” she says through clenched teeth. “They volunteered it.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Oh. And did you hear anything else?”

Gale wipes his mouth and looks at the ground. “I heard you’re the girl Peeta mentioned in his interview,” Gale says.

When Katniss says nothing, Gale explodes. “You’ve been seeing him in secret? All this time?”

Katniss folds her arms across her chest and looks down at her feet. “No. He lied about that part.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been lying to me, stringing me along.” He pulls a handful of coins from his pocket and throws it at her feet. “You didn’t ask me for any money,” he says. “Here. It’s what I’ve been saving for our future. Go spend it on him.”

She picks up a couple of coins and hurls them at his retreating back. “That’s not fair! That’s not what happened!”

The last of her energy disappears, and she wants nothing more to sink into the dirt and never get up again. “What does it matter?” she asks as Gale faces her. “He’s going to die. You’re jealous of a dead man.”

Gale shakes his head. “He won’t.”

“He will. He is.” She hasn’t heard a word from Madge since this morning. No parachute has floated down into his lap. Nothing’s coming to save him.

“He loves you,” Gale says quietly. “He’ll do whatever it takes to come home.”

Katniss buries her face in her hands, but the tears don’t come. She’s tired, used up. She’s empty.

“I’m sorry,” Gale says. He pulls her against his chest and drops a kiss in her hair. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have come.”

Katniss hides her face in his shirt. The scent is all wrong. She wants to scream.

Suddenly, she hears her name. The voice is tired, disappointed. She pulls away from Gale to find Mr. Mellark standing a few feet away, her boots in his hands.

“Why didn’t you warn him?” Mr. Mellark asks. “Why didn’t you tell him Kai was coming back? Why didn’t you tell him about the knife?”

He shoves her boots into her arms with such force, she stumbles backward onto her hurt foot.

“You lied to me,” Mr. Mellark says. “For what? A couple of decent meals? A good night’s sleep? You don’t care about him at all.”

She could disagree. She’s been privy to enough moments between him and his son that she could prove her connection to Peeta. At the very least, it would show how close she and Peeta are.

But her anger has returned. It fuels her. She stares at this man who claims to love his son, but has never lifted a finger to help him. 

She doesn’t need to explain herself to Mr. Mellark. And she won’t.

“Leave,” Katniss says. “Don’t ever come back here.”

Mr. Mellark shakes his head in disbelief. He quickly disappears back down the dirt path.

“What was that all about?” Gale asks.

Before Katniss can answer, Prim bursts through the front door. “There’s a parachute!” 

Hope blooms in Katniss’s chest. She has no idea what the parachute contains, but it has to help him. She moves to go inside, but Prim holds up a hand.

“Wait,” Prim says. “He’s not alone anymore.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments. I'm so glad you're still reading! Thanks to the wonderful amelinazenitram for betaing.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/Angeleyez779/media/AtWDD%20banner.jpg.html)

Having a day off from school, hunting, and other responsibilities was a luxury Katniss rarely enjoyed, although she wished it were under different circumstances. While she had no fever and little risk for infection, the dog bite made walking painful. Mrs. Everdeen promised there would be no long-term damage as long as Katniss remained in bed for the time being.

It was making Katniss crazy. Prim had only left for school an hour ago, but already Katniss was restless. She needed something to do, something to occupy her mind, but with her mother home, she had no chance of escape.

Unless she left anyway. She could limp straight past her mother, out the door, and spend the day in the woods. The thought was tempting. Mrs. Everdeen had been on the periphery of Katniss’s life for so long that she resented her mother trying to take over now.

But Katniss didn’t move. After all, it was her mother who had came to her side as soon as Gale burst into the house, holding her in his arms. It was her mother who cleaned and dressed her wound. Her mother would had fallen asleep at her side.

Katniss closed her eyes. The sound of Mrs. Everdeen’s footsteps in the kitchen faded away, but the throbbing in Katniss’s ankle prevented her from falling into a deep sleep. Images from the day before flickered through her mind: the dog’s matted fur, the green of the forest, the backs of Peeta’s hands.

The sound of a slap startled her. She propped herself up on her elbows to find the origin, but the room was empty. The second time she heard it, she winced, not from the noise but from the burning on her cheek.

She still didn’t know what to make of these episodes. Yesterday, Peeta’s voice had felt so real - not just as she clung to the tree branch, but later, too, as she lay in bed.

But no, it wasn’t possible.

 _This is your second day in bed!_ A voice hissed.

Katniss startled again, and her ankle slipped off the pillow it rested on. This was pain. This was real.

All too quickly, so was Peeta.

Her vision shimmered until she was staring up into his mother’s wild blue eyes. She felt sheets beneath her hands, dampened by his sweat, and the dizziness that had not quite left him. His head throbbed, his stomach roiled. But it was the fear that bothered Katniss the most.

_You think you’re going to sleep the day away? If you’re not going to school, you’re downstairs, helping in the bakery._

_Lydia._ Another voice. Deeper. Hesitant. Peeta looked over his mother’s shoulder and met his father’s eyes. _The boy’s sick. Leave him be._

_I’m tired of you making excuses for him! He’s not pulling his weight around here. He doesn’t want to help today? Fine. No lunch. No supper. We’ll see if that changes his tune._

_Mom._ Peeta’s voice came out small and weak. He said nothing else. Maybe he didn’t have the words.

Mrs. Mellark stomped toward the doorway. _We never should have had a third_ , she snapped at her husband. _Just another mouth to feed._

She was gone, and there was a moment - an opportunity - stretching between Peeta and his father. But Mr. Mellark said nothing. He stared down at the floor. Finally, Peeta turned over to face the wall. Seconds later, Katniss heard the door click shut.

She gasped at the flood of feeling that washed over her. This was worse than the slap, worse than the pain of her ankle. The worthlessness stole her breath, filled her lungs. She could drown in it.

Before she could consider that he might be embarrassed that she had witnessed such a scene, she said his name.

His brow furrowed. He touched his temple.

“Peeta? It’s—”

_Katniss._

Her name on his lips was the honey she swallowed when she had a sore throat. Smooth and sweet. Soothing. But she wasn’t the one who needed reassurance.

_How are you feeling?_

Katniss closed her eyes, wishing she had asked first even if she knew the answer.

“I’m fine. I just need to stay off my feet for a little while.”

 _But how will you…_ He hesitated before completing the question in a much softer voice. _How will you eat?_

A moment passed before she realized what he meant. She sometimes forgot that so many people in District 12 knew of her illegal activities. She forgot that there were people outside her immediate family that knew her, thought of her. It was strange to think she existed in other people’s minds, where she had no control over their perception.

“We have a couple of coins saved up. And Gale will help us.”

Katniss felt a jolt of—of what exactly?—at Gale’s name. She was almost certain it hadn’t originated with her.

_I’m glad you have him._

A thought suddenly resurfaced, something she had clearly stored away for when she had time to think. Yesterday, in Peeta’s panic to save her, he had called Gale her boyfriend.

“We’re not…I mean, I’m not…Gale and I aren’t like that.”

_Like what?_

Great. Peeta was going to make her say it.

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just friends.” It seemed important to clarify that, though Katniss wasn’t exactly sure why.

_Oh._

“You saved my life,” she said.

_No. Gale did._

“He never would have come looking for me if it weren’t for you. I never would have made it up that tree or held on as long as I did without you.”

_I’m the one that made you sick and disoriented. I nearly got you killed._

Now that was a thought. She supposed she had put two and two together as she was hugging the tree branch yesterday, but she had been dizzy and in pain. Today, though, she knew he was right. His fever had taken her by surprise, sent her to her knees in the middle of the forest. Even now, lying in her own bed in her own home, she felt his headache and nausea.

“Even if you refuse to count yesterday, you still have the first time you saved me.”

His breathing changed. Something like wonder crept into his voice. _You remember that?_

“Of course. You have no idea. No idea what you did for us,” she said.

_It was just a couple of loaves of burnt bread covered in rain and mud. I just threw them at you. I should have—_

“I saw her hurt you,” Katniss whispered.

He didn’t ask her to clarify whether she meant today or three years ago. It didn’t matter.

“And I don’t understand how she can do or say those things. You’re so kind, Peeta. You’re so _good_.”

_You mean weak._

The force of his words, the absolutely certainty behind them, took her breath away.

“No. Don’t you know how hard it is to be kind? With a mother like that, in a district like this…it is _always_ easier to be cruel.”

He was silent for a long moment. The sight of his room faded away, and she thought the connection had broken. Then, just as suddenly it was back. He had only closed his eyes.

 _I remember when I was younger, like seven or eight. I had this dream about you_ , he began. _It was early morning. Your father woke you up and led you into the woods. It was your birthday._

Somehow, the pain in her ankle had traveled up her leg through her torso and into her chest. She blinked back tears.

_He’d made you this beautiful bow. You’d been practicing on this old one, and—_

“That’s real,” she interrupted. “That—that happened.”

She felt his smile and the agony behind it. _I remember the absolute joy you felt when he gave you that bow. When he let you practice before he went to work. You were so full of love and affection for him._

She covered her face and nodded.

_I’m sorry for bringing it up. It’s just…that was one of the best dreams I ever had. I remember it so well. I love my family, I do, but I’ve always wondered what it would be like to love someone that much. To be completely filled with it._

“It’s unbearable,” she said.

*

By the time Katniss hobbles back to the couch, Marjorie Vosch sits beside Peeta beneath the overgrowth, her stiff, red fingers ruffling through his backpack. A strip of beef jerky sticks out of her mouth.

“She’s stealing from him?” Katniss spits out through clenched teeth.

“But she hasn’t hurt him,” Prim says softly as she settles beside her sister. Gale lingers a couple of feet behind the couch. He doesn’t offer an opinion.

“He needs that food,” Katniss says, “At least she can’t get his sleeping bag.”

Peeta is sprawled out on top of the sleeping bag, his back pressed against the base of a tree. He’s passed out though, oblivious to his district partner slipping his half-full canteen into his pack and zipping it up.

Finally, Marjorie dumps the contents of the parachute onto Peeta’s lap: a folded piece of gauze sealed in plastic and a vial of liquid.

Katniss looks over at Prim, eyebrow raised.

“Saline, maybe,” Prim suggests. “To clean the wound before dressing it.”

Katniss’s heart soars. This is more, much more, than she could have hoped for. She watches as Marjorie studies the vial.

 _Leave it_ , Katniss silently begs. _Take his food and go._

Finally, Marjorie returns the gauze and vial to the inside of the parachute, closes its top, and places it in the crook of Peeta’s elbow. Katniss breathes a sigh of relief. Her anger at Marjorie melts into a soft affection. She knows Marjorie is just trying to survive. At least she has left Peeta with a fighting chance.

As Marjorie pulls her hand away, she spots a bit of fabric peeking out of Peeta’s coat pocket. She pulls out the hat and gloves he hastily tucked away hours ago at the Cornucopia. Ignoring the bloodstains, she pulls on the gloves. For a long moment she considers the hat. She reaches out and brushes a few blond locks of hair off Peeta’s forehead. He shifts. His eyelashes flutter.

“Katniss,” he whispers.

She didn’t know it could hurt like this. She didn’t know his voice could be a weight pressing on her shoulders, her chest, boxing her in on all sides. A few hours ago she would have given anything to hear him say her name. Now it only reminds her of how helpless she is.

Marjorie pets his hair once more before taking the hat and gently pulling it onto his head. She slips it down far enough to cover his ears.

“Good luck,” she whispers before crawling out from underneath the overgrowth, Peeta’s backpack in one hand, his machete in the other.

At least she left his sword.

As Marjorie disappears into the storm, a terrible dread creeps over Katniss. Peeta is alone, vulnerable, and in no shape to tend to his wound.

“He’s not going to wake up,” she whispers.

Prim grabs her hand.

“It’s not enough,” she says. “It wasn’t enough. I should have—” What? What could she have done differently? How could she have saved him?

She wishes she volunteered in Marjorie’s place. She wishes she were in the frozen arena now, nestled into his side, as they wait for the storm to pass. No matter that this would certainly mean her death, she wishes it with every fiber of her being.

He has to come home. _He has to._

And with sudden clarity, Katniss realizes he won’t. He has a day or two left before he succumbs to his wound. The most she can hope for is that he never wakes up, that he tumbles into the darkness without thought or pain.

Katniss abruptly stands, hobbling on her one good foot. Gale attempts to help her move, but she waves him off.

She’s about to close the door to the bedroom when Prim yells out her name. Katniss rushes back to the couch, wincing as her hurt foot hits the floorboards. She freezes as soon as the projection comes into view.

Marjorie has returned.

*

At first, all Marjorie does is curl into Peeta’s good side in an attempt to keep warm. She closes her eyes, but after a few minutes, she opens them again and sighs.

“Fine!” she says. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She crawls over to Peeta’s other side. The balled up shirt he held to his wound lays on the ground next to his limp arm. With a look of disgust, she pinches the ruined fabric between her thumb and pointer finger and casts it aside.

She peels his coat and sweater away and flinches at the sight of his wound. After a long moment of staring, she reaches for the machete.

And Katniss’s heart stops.

She cannot watch Marjorie cut him open, cannot watch him bleed out into the snow.

It can’t end like this.

“Wake up,” she whispers. She squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the image of his face. “Peeta, wake up!”

Of course it doesn’t work. All it does is earn her surprised glances from Prim and Gale.

Marjorie twists the machete back and forth, studying the blade. Finally, she grabs Peeta’s coat, holds it taut, and saws a piece of it off. When she drops the weapon, Katniss’s sigh of relief is audible.

Marjorie buries the fabric in the snow. When it’s damp enough, she dabs Peeta’s side, cleaning off the blood. When she finishes, she picks up the vial of saline. She hesitates before uncorking the vial and pouring the solution over his wound. Carefully, she removes the adhesive strips and lays the gauze over Peeta’s side.

“There,” she mumbles. “Like new.”

She tugs his clothes back over his skin before leaning over to zip up his coat. Satisfied, she returns to his good side and leans against him.

“Did she do it right?” Katniss asks, eyes glued to the scene.

“There wasn’t enough saline,” Prim says. “His wound might still be dirty.”

“But she cleaned it.”

“Anything could have gotten inside it.”

Katniss bites her lip. “So there’s still a chance for…”

“Infection. Yeah. And the bandage might be too tight.”

Katniss tries to swallow, but her throat is too dry. The bowl of soup is still by her feet, but she cannot imagine trying to eat. She’ll just throw it back up.

She tries to recapture the hope she felt only a little while ago, when Prim told her about the parachute. He’s safe for now. And Marjorie did the best she could. More than was expected of her. In a game where only one person survives, she saved his life.

On screen, Peeta stirs again, his stiff fingers brushing Marjorie’s leg. She grabs his hand and pulls it into her lap. She doesn’t let go.

*

To Gale’s credit, he not only stays at the Everdeen house to watch the Games, but also offers to prepare dinner despite Katniss insistence that she isn’t hungry. There is no more talk of marriage or money or the Hob. There isn’t much talk at all.

After Marjorie fell asleep beside Peeta, they disappeared from view. They have yet to return, which can only mean that they are both safe.

They are too boring for the Capitol’s consumption. Their dinner hour requires fear and blood, but with the heavy snow, there is no action. Even Kai remains inside the Cornucopia, seething and shaking with rage, as he stares into the fire Mira made.

Shortly after seven, Madge shows up on the Everdeen doorstep. Before Katniss can thank her for helping with Peeta’s parachute, Madge blurts out, “They’re here. The reporters from the Capitol!”

A moment passes before Katniss remembers that the Capitol interviews the friends and family of the last eight surviving tributes. She cannot remember the last time a camera crew traveled here. District 12 tributes don’t typically last this long.

“They’re looking for you,” Madge says.

“Me?” Katniss glances around the living room as if Madge could be referring to someone else.

“Well, the girl Peeta mentioned in his interview. That must be you,” Madge says. “He just said your name in front of the whole country.”

Katniss shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “I guess.”

“Then, let’s go!” Madge reaches for Katniss’s hand.

“Where?”

“To the Justice Building to be interviewed!”

“I—I can’t go there,” Katniss says. “I can’t be interviewed.”

“But you have to go!” Madge insists. “You’re part of his story.”

Katniss’s hands ball into fists at her sides, but there’s no point in yelling at Madge. To the citizens of the Capitol, Peeta is just a story. A character to be invested in. A character to cheer for. If Katniss can use that to his advantage, she will.

“Do you really think an interview with me could help him get sponsors?” she asks.

“Of course,” Madge says. “You’re his happy ending.”

*

Despite Katniss’s insistence that Gale head home, he accompanies her and Madge to the Justice Building under the guise of helping Katniss keep off her injured foot.

Madge chatters the whole way there, giving Katniss advice.

“He did really well at the interviews. There are a lot of people in the Capitol cheering for him,” Madge says. “But we need to give them more. We need to remind them what he’s capable of and what he’s fighting for. We have to keep them invested in his ending beyond the Games.”

When they arrive, they find Rye standing in front of a camera, wrapping up an interview with a tall, thin man with purple hair. Peeta’s father and other brother stand nearby.

Gale places a hand on Katniss’s lower back as she makes her way up the stairs, but she shrugs him off. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mr. Mellark’s frown.

Then the camera is on their little group, and the purple-haired man is shoving a microphone in Katniss’s direction.

“Is this her?” the reporter asks Madge. When she nods, the reporter stares down at Katniss. “You’re Peeta Mellark’s girlfriend?”

Katniss shrinks beneath the man’s judgmental gaze. He’s sizing her up, and she knows she’s fallen short. She’s skinny, poorly dressed, and not particularly pretty. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe her presence will hurt Peeta rather than help him.

Before the silence can stretch on for too long, Gale speaks. “This is Katniss Everdeen. She’s the reason Peeta is going to win.”

The reporter looks over at Gale with interest before his eyes narrow in suspicion. He notes Gale’s close proximity to Katniss and asks, “Who are you?”

“I’m…” Tension radiates off Gale as he pauses. Finally, he forces out, “I’m Katniss’s cousin.”

Katniss stares at her best friend, but she doesn’t grab him, doesn’t shake him, doesn’t demand to know what he’s doing. She’s all too aware of the camera in her face.

“I used to watch Peeta’s wrestling matches with Katniss. He’s unbelievably strong,” Gale continues. “He flipped some of those kids over like they were nothing. If anyone can beat that psycho from One, it’s Peeta.”

“I’ve known Katniss and Peeta since Kindergarten,” Madge adds. “He liked her for years before he worked up the courage to say something to her.”

The reporter points the microphone at Katniss again. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, he obviously expects her to say something. But what? She isn’t sure what the Capitol wants to hear. She doesn’t know the magic words that will save him.

“Peeta is the best person I know,” Katniss says. “He’s brave and smart and strong. I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t come home.”

“Do you think he has what it takes to win?” the reporter asks.

“Yes,” Katniss replies. “Look at who he’s faced already. He’ll never stop fighting.”

“What are your plans if he makes it back?”

Instead of wincing, Katniss forces a smile. “I’m going to put him somewhere he can’t get hurt.”

The reporter chuckles, and Katniss finally feels as if she has done something right.

“And then?” he asks. “Will you two marry?”

The question startles her, although it shouldn’t. Madge told her that she was Peeta’s happy ending. She knows what the people of the Capitol want to hear, her true feelings be damned. Before she can answer the question, another idea takes hold. It’s almost as if Peeta is still a part of her, whispering the answer she needs.

She’ll make them invested. She’ll make the Capitol bring him home.

“We’re already married,” she says. “Our parents don’t approve of our relationship, so we had a ceremony in secret.”

A spark of interest flickers across the reporter’s face.

“But Peeta doesn’t know yet,” Katniss says, laying a hand over her stomach. “About the baby.”

*

Fifteen minutes and about a dozen personal stories later, the reporter finally finishes with her, and Gale walks her home. The sun slowly dips behind the horizon, the sky dressed in Peeta’s favorite color.

Once they’re far enough away from town, Gale asks, “It’s a lie, right? The baby? The toasting?”

“It’s as truthful as you being my cousin,” she says.

He grabs her hand, but it isn’t rough or demanding. “What are you doing?”

“Madge said to make them invested in Peeta’s story, so I did.”

“And if he comes home? What then?”

She doesn’t understand. That’s what she wants. The only thing she wants.

“What happens when the Capitol expects a baby, and there isn’t one?” Gale asks.

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “They won’t care by then.”

“Of course they will,” Gale says. “If Peeta wins, he’ll have to go on the Victory Tour. Become a mentor. He’ll be in the spotlight for the rest of his life.”

She digs her nails into her palms at the thought. She is so fixated on him coming home that she forgets there are consequences. He’ll be awarded a fortune, but he’ll have to sacrifice everything else. His life will no longer be his. Every year, for the rest of his life, he will have to watch as children under his care march two by two to their deaths.

But no. She cannot consider this. No matter what the Capitol expects of him, he will be alive, and that is everything.

“He can tell the world I lost the baby,” Katniss says. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters!” Gale swears under his breath and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Just be careful. Okay? You know how dangerous they are.”

“I know,” she says softly. But right now, she doesn’t care. She’ll say and do whatever she needs to ensure Peeta survives.

Once they arrive at her door, Gale wishes her a goodnight. Before he can walk away, she grabs his arm.

“Wait,” she says. “Thank you for what you said during the interview. I know you don’t like Peeta—”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Gale interrupts. “He seems like a good guy. I just...need a little time to get used to the idea of you and him.”

“Thank you,” she says again.

He pulls her into a tight hug. “I want you to be happy, Katniss. I’m just sorry it’s not with me.”

*

The quiet, insistent noise of a second parachute wakes Marjorie. As she leans over to open it, she feels something tug on her hair. She looks up. Confused blue eyes stare back at her. She bats Peeta’s hand away.

“Don’t do that,” she scolds.

“Sorry,” he says. “I thought you were someone else.”

Marjorie tugs her knotted, dirty hair into a ponytail. “Katniss Everdeen?”

Every part of him freezes. He even holds his breath. “What did you say?”

“You said her name earlier. And we have the same color hair.” She returns her attention to the parachute and opens it. A container of hot soup and a spoon wait inside.

“I did?” he asks.

“Look!” She pulls out the container. “We’ve got an appetizing dinner on our hands. Much better than that canned crap. I guess we can split it. It’s probably meant for you anyway.” She purses her lips. “Unless the Capitol is rewarding my generous nature.”

He winces and reaches for his side.

“Careful,” she says. “Don’t make it start bleeding again.”

“Did you...am I wearing a bandage?”

“Yeah. They only sent one, so no sudden movements.”

He rubs his forehead and startles when his fingers brush the fabric of his hat. “It’s still winter?”

“Good observation,” she says.

“I guess I haven’t been out that long.”

She shrugs before popping the top off the container. The steam hits her face, and she closes her eyes and sighs. “This smells so good.”

Peeta studies her as she begins to shove spoonful after spoonful into her mouth.

“Why did you help me?”

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You and me are allies now.”

He frowns. “You want to be allies?”

“Just until we take out the Careers. As soon as they’re dead, so is our alliance. I mean it. I don’t care about the other tributes that are left. As soon as One and Four are dead, we’re back to trying to kill each other. Got it?”

“You could have just let me die.”

“I can’t take Kai out on my own,” she says. “Besides, I didn’t do much. You would have woken up eventually.”

Peeta looks doubtful.

“Maybe I was just sick of being alone,” she says, staring down into the soup. She nearly upends their dinner in surprise when Peeta yanks off his hat and tugs it over her head.

He smiles at her. “I was sick of being alone too.”

*

After Peeta finishes the soup, he and Marjorie share the last of the water in his canteen. He offers to keep first watch while she sleeps. She agrees and immediately curls up on top of the sleeping bag.

Although it isn’t that late, Katniss decides to go to bed. Peeta has someone else watching his back, so she may as well get some much needed rest. Prim remains on the couch and promises to come in soon.

Katniss undoes her braid and slips into bed. Her dark hair spreads out like a fan across her pillow. She twists the long strands around her fingers and thinks of Peeta touching Marjorie.

Besides their brief hug in the Justice Building, he has never touched Katniss’s hair or face. He’s never run a hand along her side or traced the scar on her ankle.

His lips have never touched hers.

She runs a fingertip around her mouth, closes her eyes, and pretends it’s his touch that she feels.

For a moment, it works. For a moment, the frosty air blows against her face and her stomach roars with hunger. She hears the rustle of the sleeping bag and the wind in the trees. The heat of the soup lingers on her tongue.

_Katniss? Are you there?_

She sits up in surprise, the blanket pooling in her lap. The house is dark, quiet. Her sister is asleep across the room beside their mother.

A dream, then.

She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

She lies back down, unable to shake the feeling that she was there beside him in the frozen arena.

Despite the summer heat, she pulls the blanket up around her neck.

Despite the summer heat, she can’t stop shivering.


End file.
